The Dalish Warden
by Nithu
Summary: The story of Eirwen, a Dalish Elf, who find herself caught up in the events overtaking Ferelden as a Blight looms. Rated M for naughty content in some chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"So tell me Duncan, what ails Eirwen. You know what this sickness is yes?"

Duncan sighed and nodded. "She carries the Darkspawn taint." He grimaced unhappily, "We Wardens are able to sense the taint. I can sense it in her, there is no doubt."

"Darkspawn? In the forest? Our lore tells of such creatures but do they not dwell in the Dwarven Deep Roads? Unless there's a ..."

"A blight", Duncan finished for her. "Yes Keeper, I'm afraid there's a blight coming."

Marethari paled, the tattoos on her face standing out against the pallor of her skin. "This is serious news indeed. This sickness, this taint, how can I cure it? I have tried everything I know but although Eirwen is much improved, she is still sick."

A shadow passed over Duncan's face, "I'm sorry Keeper, there is no cure. The taint will spread through the girl and either kill her or turn her into..."

"No! Surely there must be something I can do?"

Duncan regarded the Keeper carefully, "Tell me about her Keeper. What is she like?"

The Keeper smiled as she considered Eirwen and she began to tell Duncan about her. "She was orphaned at a young age and was raised by Ashalle. I'm not sure if it was losing her parents so young or simply in her nature but she has always been serious, quiet, watchful. It was quite striking when she was a child, she was always so solemn. What is even more surprising is that she became so close to Tamlen. He is hot-headed and impulsive." She smiled, "He has led the pair of them into more than one scrape, probably against her better judgement, but I don't doubt that her cooler head has kept them out of many more. There is sometimes a ... stillness about her, it can be quite unnerving. Then of course she is a good hunter, she favours the bow but is more than proficient with her blades." The Keeper shrugged slightly, smiling. "Words, how do they do a person justice?"

Duncan smiled back at the Keeper, "Indeed." He hesitated, then appeared to come to decision, "It has struck me however that there may be a way to save Eirwen but it is a slim chance and you will not like it."

Marethari raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh? Well tell me anyway, I would see her saved from this taint if I could."

"You may not know, but the Grey Wardens are immune to the taint. I think it's possible that if Eirwen were to join us she could be saved. With a blight coming we need all the Wardens we can get and from what you say of her, she could be a valuable addition to our ranks."

Marethari sighed heavily, her face sad, "But she would have to leave us."

"That she would Keeper. She would be sworn to the Grey Wardens for the rest of her life."

"I don't know if she would even agree to this. She is very loyal to her kith and kin and she has a strong sense of duty. She will not easily be persuaded, even though it may cost her her life."

Duncan looked surprised then smiled, "Then it sounds like she would be ideal for the Grey Wardens. Maybe her sense of duty could," he paused looking uncomfortable, then continued, "er...be used to persuade her to consent?"

"I'm sure it could", replied the Keeper dryly. She nodded abruptly, "Come, let us go and speak to her."

* * *

As they left the Aravel, Eirwen turned to face them. Duncan watched her closely; he had expected tension, maybe grief at the loss of her friend. Instead she just stood there, her face calm and impassive, her posture relaxed. He recalled that the Keeper had described her as 'watchful', he understood now what she had meant. The young elf before them regarded them both with a composed, considered gaze yet he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she understood more than what was before her eyes. Although she gave no outward sign that her mind was racing, Duncan didn't doubt that it was however nothing in her face gave away what conclusions she might have come to. Swiftly he appraised her in a glance. As was usual amongst the Elves she was slight, yet he could see the wiry strength of her arms and legs. Her face was tattooed, a swirling pattern that almost filled her forehead, and carried on down her almost hawk-like nose. Her dark auburn hair hung dankly, damp from the sweat of her fever. Her face was long and narrow, her sunken cheeks accentuating the high cheekbones. Her most striking feature though was her eyes. Oddly out of proportion, they seemed to fill her face, A dark blue-grey, the colour of flint. She was not conventionally beautiful by any means but certainly striking. He allowed himself a moment to be grateful he wasn't a younger man, followed by a pang of anxiety. Women were rare among the Grey wardens and he hoped that a lone woman among the younger members of his order wouldn't cause problems.

He shook himself mentally as he realised that the Keeper, Marethari, was introducing him to Eirwen. He steeled himself as he explained firmly to Eirwen what was wrong with her, that the taint she carried would kill her. He went on to tell her that the only way she could save herself was by joining the Grey Wardens. Her eyes flickered briefly as she informed him that she would not join his order out of pity. Biting back a flash of irritation at her pride he explained that his offer was not charity, that it was made because he truly thought she would be an asset to the Grey wardens. He was brutally honest with her, joining the Wardens would take her away from her clan to join the fight against the Darkspawn. She couldn't hide the anguish in her eyes as she turned to Marethari and asked if it was the clan's wish that she join the Grey Wardens. It was with a heavy heart that the Keeper told her of the Blight gathering in the south of the danger it presented and of the agreement that the Dalish has to aid the Grey Wardens in times of need. Eirwen turned back to Duncan and inclined her head slightly, "Very well, if it is my duty I will join your order."

Duncan crossed his arms across his chest and bowed to her, "I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us but they have always served with distinction."

Duncan sighed as he watched her make her farewells to her clan. He was pleased to see that she didn't lose her composure but it saddened him to recruit her in such circumstances. Over the years he had often conscripted recruits, snatching them from the jaws of vengeful authorities plus they had occasional volunteers. The conscripts were usually relieved to escape punishment and the volunteers were full of enthusiasm, caught up in tales of heroism. He gathered his few belongings together and carefully packed the herbal medicine that the Keeper had prepared, under no illusion that Eirwen was very sick indeed and that he needed to get her to Ostagar as quickly as he could before the taint in her blood overtook her. He waited for her at the edge of the Dalish camp and with only one backward glance she joined him and they were underway.

* * *

Duncan glanced down at his small companion and cursed softly. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts and she had been so quiet he hadn't paid her any attention. As he looked at her properly for the first time in hours he could see that she was bathed in sweat and trembling with fatigue. It was a couple of hours before sunset and he had hoped to push on for at least another hour but it was clear that she needed to rest. He stopped abruptly and scanned the landscape. Eirwen was so busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other that it was a few moments before she realised he was no longer at her side and stopped, looking around in confusion.

"Come, We'll set up camp over there" said Duncan, nodding at a small clearing.

Eirwen looked up at the sky, "The sun will not set for a few more hours, shouldn't we push on?"

"The general idea is to get you to Ostagar in one piece, not march you into the ground before we arrive." He smiled at her, "We will be up early enough tomorrow, an hour will make no difference."

He headed into the clearing and rummaged in his pack. "Here," he said passing her the bottle Marethari had given him, "Your Keeper gave me this for you. You look like you need it. I'll set up camp and get some food ready, you rest and give that medicine some time to take its effect."

Too weary to argue, Eirwen merely nodded and took the bottle. Her hands unsteady, she struggled briefly with the cork then she swallowed some of the bitter tasting medicine and carefully replaced the cork. She sank to the ground and, feeling slightly guilty, watched Duncan set up the camp. He'd obviously done this before she mused as she watched him work quickly and efficiently. She felt confused about him; he was a Shem but unlike any she had ever met before. Not that she had a wealth of experience she thought wryly. In her small experience, Shem varied from wary and contemptuous to downright hostile and Duncan was none of those things. She sensed a hardness in him, one that she understood, a steel core of duty but she sensed he was also honourable and that the fact she was Dalish truly didn't matter to him. She wondered if the other Grey wardens would be like him or if he was the exception. A new thought struck her; if he had recruited _her_ then maybe not all of the other Wardens were Shems. She was still musing on this when Duncan came and squatted down in front of her.

"I owe you an apology Eirwen" he said. _There it is again, that stillness the Keeper mentioned, that sense of __**waiting**_

"An apology?" _For what? Did he lie? Can joining the Wardens not cure me?_

Duncan grimaced, "I did not realise how hard the pace I set was on you, how you were tiring; I was too absorbed in my own thoughts. I am sorry."

The tips of her ears flushed slightly, "I think it's I who should apologise," she replied softly, "I am not usually so weak." _Aagh, now he thinks you are weak and questions if he chose rightly_

"Exactly so, and there is no need to apologise. You are ill and it would not do for either of us to underestimate the taint that ails you. For my part I undertake to be more considerate and adjust our pace accordingly. Will you undertake to tell me if you are struggling?" _Once more, that flash of pride. Will her common sense win out or is she too stuborn to allow concessions to her sickness?_

"I...very well, I will tell you if I'm finding it hard."

Duncan smiled warmly at her. "Good. Now come, there is a fire going and you should eat." He arose and held out his hand to her. Somewhat hesitantly, Eirwen took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. "It's not very exciting, just bread and dried meat but it will keep your strength up." He nodded to the bottle in her other hand, "It helped?"

Eirwen pulled a face, "It did."

Duncan chuckled, "And like all good medicine it tastes foul, eh?"

Eirwen had to smile as she agreed with him, "Indeed it does."

They sat quietly by the small fire he'd made as they ate. It was a mild night and Duncan hadn't erected any tents but just laid out two neat bedrolls, one each side of the fire. Once the food was gone he'd talked a little about Ostagar which turned out to be where they were heading. He said that the King of Ferelden was assembling an army there to meet the Darkspawn horde. He had a pleasant, soothing voice and Eirwen felt herself starting to drift. She was faintly embarassed when he noticed her eyes dropping and suggested that they settle down to sleep but too drowsy to offer any protest and with a mumbled "Good night" she had curled up in her blanket and fallen asleep in moments.

She awoke early feeling feverish again. She glanced across at Duncan who seemed to be fast asleep. She sniffed and pulled a face. She stank! Quietly she rose and fetched Marethari's medicine, gagging slightly as she swallowed it. The small noise was enough to waken Duncan, who sat up yawning, a look of sympathy on his face. "That bad, eh?"

She grinned and held out the bottle, "See for yourself."

He held his hands up, smiling, "I'm prepared to take your word for it." _At last, she's starting to relax a bit_

Eirwen gathered up her weapons, "I think I can hear a stream over there," she gestured through the trees, "I'm going to freshen up a bit."

He nodded and rose, "I'll get some breakfast started."

Eirwen headed through the trees and it wasn't long before she found a small stream. The water was cold but clean. Gratefully she sank to her knees and, with a quick glance around to make sure she was unobserved, removed her breastplate. She cursed herself for forgetting to bring soap but was glad enough to be able to wash herself down. At least now she didn't smell as bad. Dragging her fingers through her hair she frowned. It felt lank and dirty. That she had been so feverish hadn't helped_. Ugh, it's like rats tails. _ On an impulse she reached for a dagger and hacked a great hank off. Dropping it to the ground in disgust she persevered, cutting her hair away. By the time she had finished she wasn't completely bald but she wasn't far off, what little hair she had left was cropped closely to her head. Donning her breastplate again she headed back to their small camp. As she arrived back she flushed as Duncan gaped at her. Self-consciously she ran her hand over her shorn head.

"This is more practical," she muttered. _Damn, I bet my ears have gone red._

"Er ... yes, I'm sure it is" _Maker's breath man, don't stare!_ Duncan busied himself with the pot over the fire, ladling porridge into two bowls.

"You think it's looks stupid," Eirwen accused quietly, watching him intently.

Duncan handed her a bowl, the porridge steaming in the cool air. "Not at all." _Careful, she's gone still again and she is a woman after all._

He looked at her steadily, "Actually it suits you, your head is...shapely." He paused and gathered up his own porridge. He smiled at her apologetically, "I'm sorry I stared so, it was just unexpected." He heaved a mental sigh of relief as she nodded abruptly and attacked her porridge.

"You found a stream then?" he asked her as they ate.

"Mmhmm", she nodded, "It's not far. I...er...cut it off because..." she paused, the tips of her ears flushing red again, "I forgot to bring any soap," she finished sheepishly, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her bowl.

Duncan shovelled more porridge into him mouth so that he wouldn't laugh. After a moment to compose himself he replied, "I have soap, you're welcome to use it." _Ah, so proud this one. she refuses to ask for anything. _

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "Thank you."

He smiled at her, "It will grow back in no time at all. Although it really _does_ suit you, and like you say, it's practical."

She shrugged, "We'll see."

Breakfast over, Duncan left her to break up camp whilst he headed to the stream...armed with soap.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost noon when they reached Ostagar on the fifth day of their journey. Although was only a few hours since Eirwen had drunk the last of Marethari's medicine the fever was already starting to build again. Duncan glanced at her anxiously taking in the over-bright eyes, the sheen on her face and the slight shiver. He'd been torn between pushing hard for Ostagar in order to arrive as soon as possible and the fear that pushing her too hard physically would accelerate the taint that threatened to overwhelm her. They needed to complete her Joining as soon as possible. He wondered if the mages in the King's camp would be able to help hold the taint in check until she was able to complete the ritual that could save her or maybe would... He shook himself, unwilling to complete the thought. He hated this. It was never easy but he admitted to himself that he was more reluctant than usual at the prospect of failure. She hadn't talked much along the way and he hadn't pressed her, aware that she needed all the energy to fight the sickness that coursed through her. He had to admit though that he was impressed with her stamina and he liked the quiet way about her. If she survived the Joining he had no doubt that she would make a formidable Warden.

The ruined fortress of Ostagar loomed up in front of them and he heard her gasp. She stopped, almost stumbling, and looked up at the great, grey ruins.

"I've never seen anything like this! Who built this?"

"It's an old Tevinter fortress," he told her, "Ruined certainly but still a good defence for all that."

He stepped down onto a stone bridge that spanned a deep chasm.

"Come. I think we have a welcoming committee." He nodded his head to the far side of the bridge where a small group of people stood waiting for them. Eirwen's head was starting to swim and he balanced both their packs on one shoulder and supported her with his free arm. He took it as a bad sign that she made no protest, merely leaning on him as they crossed the bridge. He bit down his irritation as King Cailan greeted them, all he wanted to do was get the girl to the healers as quickly as he could. Thankfully after exchanging pleasantries that he was sure Eirwen was barely aware of the King seemed to take in the condition of his newest recruit and made his excuses to leave. Bracing his arm underneath her shoulders, Duncan virtually carried her the short distance to the mage encampment. He was relieved when one of them caught his eye almost immediately and hurried over.

"Good day Warden, I am Wynne. Your companion looks in urgent need of assistance."

He nodded. "Her Keeper sent some medicine with her but she used the last of it this morning. She has needed it more frequently over the last couple of days." He sighed, "I had hoped it would last a little longer."

Wynne regarded the elf, noting the unusual tattoo on her face. "Keeper? She is Dalish then? Do you still have the bottle? Dalish lore is somewhat different to ours but I may be able to tell some of what was in it."

"Yes, she is Dalish and yes, the bottle should be in her pack."

Gesturing him to follow she led him to a small cot. "Put her there and let's see what I can do for her."

Duncan dropped their packs to the ground then carefully laid Eirwen on to the cot. Once she was settled he quickly found the empty bottle Marethari had given him, thankfully on the top of everything. Grimly he handed it to Wynne who unstoppered it and sniffed. The pungent smell made her eyes water and she grimaced.

"She's made of stern stuff indeed if this tasted anything like it smells. There's willow bark and elfroot in there certainly but something else too, something I'm not familiar with." She looked at Duncan uncertainly. "This isn't a cure, is it? Just something to ...?"

He shook his head, choosing his words carefully, "No, not a cure. Just something to strengthen her until she can be initiated into the Grey Wardens."

Wynne raised an eyebrow at him, "And then?"

He avoided her gaze, "If she can survive long enough to undergo the Joining then there is a chance for her."

Seeing the set of his face, Wynne was sure he would tell her nothing more. "When can you perform this..er...Joining? "

"Hopefully tonight, however she will need to be well enough to go out into the Wilds this afternoon if that is to be the case."

"Maker's breath!" Wynne looked like there was a lot more she wanted to say however she bit her tongue and sighed, "Very well, I'll do what I can but I warn you Duncan, this girl is near death."

Duncan hesitated, "I know how it seems but the Joining is the only chance she's got and the sooner it's complete the better."

"Come back in an hour or so." Bristling with indignation, her displeasure obvious, Wynne turned from him and bent over the small Elven figure on the cot.

Duncan sighed and retrieved his pack, heading towards the spot the Grey Wardens had picked out for their camp. Most of the other Wardens were camped with the main army but he and Alistair were in the King's own encampment. He needed to speak to Alistair in private before he sent him out in to the Wilds with the recruits. Pushing down his anxiety he headed over to their fire and couldn't help but smile as he saw's Alistair's face light up as he approached.

"Duncan! You made it! I was expecting you yesterday"

Duncan sighed wearily, "Indeed, I'd hoped to make better time but circumstances dictated otherwise."

"Trouble on the road?"

"Not exactly." Duncan dumped his pack and sat down, gesturing for Alistair to do the same.

"Sit, I need to speak to you before you head out this afternoon." He looked round warily, "Where are Ser Jory and Daveth?"

Alistair shrugged, "Daveth's probably making a nuisance of himself around a woman somewhere." He shook his head, "Honestly Duncan, he seems nice enough but he just doesn't know when to stop! It's only a matter of time before he arrives back with a black eye or worse. As for Ser Jory, he's like a wet weekend in Highever, which is where I suspect he'd rather be right now by all accounts." He stopped suddenly aware he was babbling, "They're both around somewhere", he gestured vaguely around him. "What's the latest one like?"

Duncan sighed, "She's ill, very ill. A healer's looking at her now."

Alistair eyed him warily _**She**__ is ill?_ "Ill?" he asked, "Something she picked up on the way?"

Duncan shook his head. "She's from a Dalish clan I ran across on my way back down here. Her name is Eirwen. She's tainted."

Alistair's eyes widened in surprise.

"Her Keeper" continued Duncan, "gave her something that has managed to keep her alive this long but she's at the end of her strength. The Joining must be tonight but I'm not sure she'll be strong enough for your trip out into the Wilds this afternoon."

Alistair shrugged, "So what? She can stay here with you and just do the ritual later with the other two can't she?"

Duncan smiled, "I don't think she'd see it like that Alistair. She is very proud and not a little stubborn. No, that isn't what I was going to say. She _will_ go with you; what I want from you is to keep a particular eye on her. I don't want her exerting herself to much. It shouldn't be too hard as apparently the bow is her favoured weapon however be aware that she's probably stubborn enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other until she drops. I really don't want it to come to that. Also bear in mind that the Dalish are a proud people and her experience of humans isn't anything we can be proud of. She's a little..." he paused, casting around for the right word, "prickly. "

"Riiiight" drawled Alistair, "A prickly elf who's liable to drop dead at my feet. How hard can this be?"

Duncan raised an eyebrow, "I'm not sure she'll appreciate what passes for your sense of humour right now so try and keep it to a minimum."

Alistair flushed and looked embarrassed. "Sorry Duncan" he muttered, "I really will keep an eye on her and bring her back on her own two feet."

Duncan smiled, "See that you do. I suspect that she's the pick of the bunch."

"Honestly Duncan, I swear I'll look out for her." He stopped as his stomach rumbled loudly, "Uh-oh, lunch time. I'm going to go and look pathetic near the kitchen, I'm starving."

Duncan couldn't help laughing, "Go on then, you've about an hour until the healer's done with our Dalish friend. Once she's here you can all head out into the Wilds."

Duncan headed back towards the mage's encampment and was relieved to see Eirwen on her feet. She still looked pale but there was no sign of her earlier fever. Wynne didn't look pleased to see him but tapped the young woman on the arm and gestured towards Duncan. He headed over to meet them to be met with a look of stern disapproval from Wynne.

"I've done what I can but it won't last." She turned towards Eirwen, "Remember what I said young lady. You are _not_ to exert yourself too much. If you do then your relapse will be all the quicker."

Eirwen nodded meekly, "Yes Wynne, I will bear what you said in mind."

Duncan tried to hide his astonishment, this meek attitude was the last thing he had expected. He tried not to flinch as Wynne rounded on him. "And as for you Ser Warden, " _Was she wagging her finger at him?!_ "I expect you to take good care of her. I do _not_ expect to see her here again in such a state."

Duncan crossed his arms over his chest and bowed to the mage, "My thanks Wynne, we are very grateful for your help. You do the Grey Wardens a great service."

Wynne merely snorted and headed back towards her fellow mages. Eirwen caught his eye and grinned. He couldn't help but grin back at her, "You look much better Eirwen."

"I _feel_ much better."

"I'm glad to hear it. You have all your things?" She nodded, adjusting her pack on her shoulder. "In that case I suggest you spend a little time looking round the camp then find Alistair. There are some things I need to attend to but when you've found Alistair come and seek me out over at our camp."

She looked round the camp warily and for a second he saw it through her eyes. "Don't worry Eirwen. You remember what we spoke of the other day? I know that your experiences with humans aren't very positive but truly, you are unlikely to encounter those attitudes here."

She regarded him carefully, wanting to believe him. "We'll see" she conceded grudgingly. "I'll just dump my pack at your camp then go and look around a bit then."

He extended his hand, "Give it to me, I'll see it's stowed safely, off you go."

Almost reluctantly she handed over her pack, like she expected him to abscond with it, then abruptly she turned and was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

She looked around her curiously. There was a woman on a small platform talking, a group of men kneeling in front of her, their heads bowed reverently. Was this the Chantry? She listened for a little then drifted off, bored. Wynne had talked a little of the Chantry, telling her of the Fade, which had sounded like what she knew as Beyond. She heard dogs barking and wandered over to look. A worried looking man was peering over a fence at a large hound that was obviously distressed. Curious, she asked him what was wrong with the dog. To her surprise the man had been courteous enough, explaining that the dog had lost his master and was probably tainted; likely to sicken and die. She felt a strong pang of empathy for the beast.

"Is there nothing you can do for him?"

"I can't even get near him to try. I tried to muzzle him, but he won't let me close."

"Muzzle?"

The man held up a harness. "To stop him biting me" he explained. "If he bites me then I will sicken too."

"Let me try" she offered taking the harness from him.

"But Miss, if he bites you....", he trailed off as she vaulted the fence and crouched down before the dog who cowered in the corner of the pen.

Softly she crooned to the dog "Shhh Da'len. Aneth ara, I am Eirwen." The dog settled and looked at her, his eyes shining with misery. "I know" she told him, "It burns yes? I feel it too." Slowly she approached him and petted his huge head and he whined softly. "Shhh Da'len, there is nothing to fear. Will you wear this so your keeper may make you well again?" The dog wriggled forward. Eirwen felt a sudden pang of homesickness, he reminded her of the Halla and the way they and the Dalish could understand each other. Gently she fastened the muzzle over his snout and patted him. "There Da'len, you are very brave. " Standing she looked down at him, "I will come back and see you soon."

Slowly she backed out of the pen as the kennel master looked on, his eyes wide.

"Well done Miss, I ain't never seen anything like that! An' thank you, now I can treat him properly."

Eirwen bowed slightly, "It was no trouble. can you cure him?"

The man sucked his teeth, "Well I can make sure he's comfortable for now. To really cure him though, well, I don't suppose you're heading out into the Wilds any time soon?"

Eirwen shrugged, "I really have no idea. Why, what do you need?"

"There's a plant, not common, but it grows some down here. It's white with a dark red centre. If I could get hold of that it'd really help his chances."

"I can't promise anything but if we do leave the camp I'll keep a look out for it. Just the plant or the root also?"

"Just the plant Miss, the flower and the greenery."

Eirwen nodded, then turned and wandered off. She found herself in the infirmary and beat a hasty retreat when she realised that the raving men in there were tainted. She couldn't face seeing what she might become if this ritual of Duncan's failed. She clenched her teeth in annoyance, he had refused to tell her what it entailed and made it clear that it wasn't up for discussion. She decided to go and look for Alistair, although she had no clue how to recognise him. Spotting a merchant near the forge she decided to ask him. She froze as he fixed her with an angry glare.

"Oi! You, Elf. Where's that bloody armour, I bin waitin' ages!"

_Filthy Shem! Do I look like a flat-ear to you?_ She stood still, fingers itching to draw her Dar'Misu and cut his throat. _One more word Shem and you die!_ The man took a moment to look her over again, taking in the wicked looking curved blades and the bow that was almost taller than she was.

"Sorry miss, no offense meant."

Eirwen didn't acknowledge the apology. "Do you know where I can find Alistair of the Grey Wardens?"

"Grey Wardens is it? You one o' them then?" The man shuffled uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze. When it became clear that she wasn't going to answer he reddened and spluttered, "Yeah - I saw him 'ead that way not long back, lookin' for a mage 'e was."

Eirwen turn on her heel and headed off in the direction he'd indicated. Passing through the archway she looked to her left and seeing no-one headed up the ramp to her right. At the top she spied a disgruntled looking mage and a tall human in splint mail armour. She hung back in the shadow, not wanting to intrude on their conversation until the mage, spluttering with fury, stormed past her, then she stepped forward into the sunlight.

Alistair turned towards her, "Isn't it wonderful how the Blight brings people together?" _Andraste's flaming knickers, where did she spring from? How long has she been there?_

She regarded him seriously, "You are a very strange human."

"I hope you're not another mage?" _Maker's breath, those eyes! Think Alistair, don't babble, you always end up blushing._

Eirwen didn't flicker, "Are you mocking me?"

_She's tiny, like a little doll._ Alistair slapped his forehead, "You must be Duncan's new recruit!"

The Elven woman crossed her arms over her chest and bowed formally, "I am Eirwen. You are Alistair?"

"Eirwen! That's the name. Duncan told me to expect you. He said you were at the healers." He regarded her curiously. She looked well enough, if a little on the pale side, but if he concentrated he could sense the taint within her.

Eirwen regarded him steadily, but said nothing. Alistair was seized by a wild desire to babble, to fill the silence, then remembered Duncan's remarks about his sense of humour and bit his tongue.

"Well," he said breezily, "Let's get back to Duncan and find out what he's got planned? After you."

Eirwen turned and he followed her across the ruins to Duncan's fire, taking the opportunity to inspect her. W_hat happened to her hair? Do all Dalish wear their hair like that or is it because she's sick? It suits her though. Maker's breath, she's tiny! She looks like she'd blow over in a strong breeze. Can she really shoot that bow, it's almost bigger than she is. And those weapon's, I've never seen anything like them before. Some kind of dagger? I __**like**__ that armour though. Careful Alistair, you're going to blush again._

As soon as they arrived back at Duncan's fire, Alistair took off to find Daveth and Ser Jory. As they all gathered around Duncan Alistair suppressed a grin, the two other recruits looked huge at the side of the diminutive elf. When Duncan told them what he wanted them to do both men blanched while Eirwen just nodded calmly. _Hmm. maybe she's not as frail as she looks._ Duncan went on to explain about the old ruins nearby and the scrolls he hoped would still be there. Eirwen merely nodded then turned towards the gate, leaving the other three scrabbling to catch up to her. Passing through the gate out into the Wilds both Daveth and Ser Jory looked distinctly uncomfortable whilst Eirwen, although alert, looked relaxed and confident. They had only travelled about a mile from the camp when Alistair saw her raise her bow and loose an arrow. _I can't sense any Darkspawn._ Startled he followed the arrow and saw it thud into a wolf, far ahead of them. The impact knocked it to the ground and he heard it yelp. Almost faster than his eye could follow, Eirwen had knocked another arrow and let it fly. Now he could see the wolves, about a dozen, bearing down on them. He grabbed his shield and sword from his back and charged ahead, Daveth and Ser Jory both on his heels, drawing their own weapons. The four of them made short work of the wolf pack. Alistair felt a little sheepish that Eirwen had dispatched at least four before he and the other men had even reached the main body of the pack.

They wandered around aimlessly for a while and it was almost another hour before they came across their first Darkspawn. Alistair felt unaccountably pleased that he was able to warn the others of the approaching Darkspawn before Eirwen spotted them. He charged one of the hurlocks in front of him, bashing his shield against the misshapen face. He was aware of the archers on the rise ahead and turned his head, about to shout instructions to Eirwen when he saw one of them topple and realised that she had them well in hand. The small band of Darkspawn was dispatched in pretty short order which only left the gruesome task of gathering their blood to fill the vials Duncan had given them. Alistair pulled a face, he always hated this bit. Stowing the vials in his pack he took a moment to look over the recruits. Daveth and Ser Jory both looked shaken but Eirwen was calm and composed. Then it dawned on him, if she was tainted she must have come across Darkspawn before.

"Come on, let's see if we can find that ruin Duncan spoke of, we'll need to turn back soon."

Eirwen pointed to the East, "That looks like a ruin just over that hill."

Alistair squinted into the distance and now he looked for it, he could see she was right. _Andraste's flaming sword, she's got eyes like a hawk!_ "Come on then, let's head over that way."

As they got to the bottom of the hill, Alistair shouted a warning, "Darkspawn ahead."

On a small bridge stood a lone hurlock armed with a staff, although Alistair could sense there were more beyond the bridge. As the Darkspawn mage raised its staff he shouted again, "Get the Emissary!" He flinched as an arrow whistled past the side of his head, almost grazing his ear. By some kind of magic the Emissary managed to deflect the arrow and turned and ran, the group giving chase. Alistair and the others skidded to a halt as Eirwen shrieked "Traps! Look out!" Looking to their feet they could just see the faint outline of the vicious claw traps laid at either side of the bridge. Flashing the elven woman a grateful grin he charged across the bridge, Daveth and Jory close behind him. Like the wolves earlier, the Darkspawn were already falling to Eirwen's deadly arrows when the men reached them. As they dispatched the last one, Alistair felt that tell-tale tug behind him and turned just in time to see a genlock creeping up on Eirwen. Before he could even shout a warning she started to move, ducking low and throwing her bow to one side. The genlock slashed at her, or rather where she had been just a moment before. She rose up, already spinning as her foot came up and took it in the throat. Gurgling it grasped its shattered pharynx as she span in the other direction, curved blade flashing and took its head off in one smooth motion. Alistair and the others started to run back to her as yet another genlock appeared. Eirwen didn't move a muscle, she just stood there waiting for it to get to her. The genlock seemed confused by her reaction, or lack of it, and hesitated for a moment, then snarling it lunged at her. It's blade struck thin air as she span out of its way and somehow all of a sudden she was behind it. Her blades flashed as they caught the late afternoon sun and the genlock collapsed as its head hit the ground with a dull thud. The three men just stood gaping at her. Eirwen ignored them and bent to wipe her blades on the grass, grimacing in distaste. She straightened and looked up at the sky. "We'd better get a move on, there's not a lot of light left." Alistair just nodded dumbly and turned, heading up the hill.

They only encountered one small group of Darkspawn before they reached the ruin. Alistair felt a surge of hope as he spotted the battered old chest, only to have it dashed as they got closer. It was clear that the chest had crumbled with age and was empty. He was about to suggest that they head back to Duncan when Eirwen whirled. Following her gaze he tried not to blush as he saw the woman approaching them. _Andraste's holy knickers, what is that woman wearing?!_ He couldn't look the woman in the eye as she challenged them about their right to be there; in fact he didn't know where to look, she practically had no top on! Jory seemed equally embarrassed whilst Daveth openly ogled the new arrival. Eirwen took on the look that was now becoming familiar to Alistair, letting the others do the talking, just watching and listening. _Maker's breath, does nothing faze her?_ When she did finally speak it was to introduce herself with a quiet courtesy. The others gawped at her as if she'd grown two heads, although Alistair did feel a little foolish after all their talk of swooping and toads. Surprisingly though her quiet courtesy seemed to do the trick and the woman introduced herself as Morrigan. The two women talked quietly between themselves as the three men shuffled uncomfortably in the background. Alistair in particular regarded Morrigan with suspicion, he could _feel_ the magic in her. Without him ever being quite sure how it had happened it seemed that they were to accompany the witch. The three men started to protest only to be quelled by a raised eyebrow from Eirwen. _Maker, the look's scary, the eyebrow is downright terrifying._

Alistair was relieved when Morrigan's mother turned out to be just a batty old woman. He was aware of the magic in her too but compared to Morrigan she seemed pretty harmless. Morrigan's hostility was plain whereas her mother was just half a haystack short of a full thatch. Treaties retrieved, the sun was low in the sky as Morrigan strode ahead, guiding them back to Ostagar at her mother's insistence, with obvious reluctance. As Ostagar loomed in front of them Morrigan vanished, leaving them to make their way alone.

Alistair was pleased to be able to hand over the scrolls but his heart sank as he realised it was almost time for the Joining. It was probably unrealistic but he couldn't help hoping that all three of the recruits came through the ritual. He followed Duncan's gaze to Eirwen and was shocked at what he saw. She had been fine all afternoon, and had seemed none the worse for wear when they had started their trek back to the fortress. She was obviously not fine now though. Her eyes glittered with fever and, if possible, seemed even larger than before. He could see the fine sheen of sweat that coated her and the two high spots of colour in her cheeks.

Duncan addressed the small group solemnly. Ser Jory seemed apprehensive but Daveth and Eirwen seemed eager to get on with it. Duncan strode ahead to the ancient Temple leaving Alistair to follow, almost reluctantly, with the three recruits. When they had all re-assembled Duncan explained just what the ritual entailed. Daveth and Ser Jory looked horrified at the thought of drinking the Darkspawn blood and deliberately tainting themselves, whereas Eirwen felt mildly bewildered. She was already tainted, there must be something more in the Chalice. She could feel the fever building in her. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her head felt woozy and she was having trouble following what the others were saying. Daveth and Ser Jory appeared to be having some kind or argument. She swayed slightly and willed herself to stay upright. She started as, behind her, Alistair suddenly started to speak. Her ears pricked at his tone, so unlike anything she had heard from him so far, and she forced herself to focus on his words.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." A shiver rippled through her at his words.

She felt like she was in a cave, looking out. Everything was dark around the edges and she could hear a great roaring in her ears. She saw Daveth drink from the chalice, then he disappeared. From a long way off she could hear someone screaming, then it stopped. At the edge of her vision she saw Ser Jory back away, his face pale and his eyes full of horror. She could see his lips move but she couldn't hear what he was saying over the roaring, then Duncan stepped in front of him and he was gone. Then Duncan was in front of her, his face filled her vision. She stared into his eyes. _His eyes look so sad. Why is he sad?_ She saw him speak but couldn't grasp the words. what did he want her to do? She felt the chalice in her hands, it felt so nice and cool. _Drink. He wanted us to drink. I'm so thirsty. _She raised the Chalice to her lips. _Ugh, this smells so bad. Medicine?_ Fighting her revulsion she swallowed. She couldn't fight it any more, the blackness was rushing in; she could feel herself falling.


	4. Chapter 4

She could hear someone moaning softly then another voice, deeper, "I think she's coming round." Was that her making that noise? She felt hard stone beneath her and she shivered slightly, the stone chilling her skin. She struggled to open her eyes and two faces swam in front of her, two pairs of brown eyes gazed down at her, the one pair so very dark and the other lighter, both filled with concern and relief. Duncan and Alistair.

"It is finished. Welcome." Duncan extended a hand and helped her to her feet.

"Two more deaths!" exclaimed Alistair bitterly. "In my joining only one of us died but it was _horrible_." He shuddered. "I'm glad at least one of you made it through" he added softly. He turned away, trying to master the grief so clear on his face. Eirwen looked away from him, feeling as if she was intruding somehow.

"How do you feel?" Duncan asked her gently.

Eirwen took a moment to consider how she _did_ feel. Strangely, she felt better than she had for days. A little shaky, as if had been too long since she had eaten, but she could feel that the fever had left her. Her head felt clear and although she shivered a little, it was because she was a little chilled from having been laid on the cold stone floor of the temple rather than the hot and cold her illness had subjected her to.

"I feel fine. Better than I have done since..." _The mirror, since Tamlen_ All of a sudden a wave of sorrow washed over her. She understood that it was remarkable that she had survived this long and that without the same care Tamlen must surely be dead. Furiously blinking away the treacherous tears that had filled her eyes she stared fixedly past Duncan, pushing aside all thoughts of Tamlen. There would be time to grieve later. As she struggled to master her emotions she heard Duncan and Alistair talking about dreams, then Alistair gently tapped her shoulder.

"Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us of those who didn't make it this far."

Eirwen nodded, not trusting her voice, and took the pendant he held out to her. She slipped it over her head where it rested against the pendant Ashalle had given to her, the only memento she had of her parents.

"Take some time." Duncan told her. "When you're ready I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the King." He gave her brief directions to the meeting, then left her alone with Alistair.

"Come on, let's get you back to the camp fire for a bit. You can freshen up and grab something to eat."

She nodded mutely and followed him back to Duncan's fire.

"You stay here and I'll go and scrounge some food. I'll use the puppy dog eyes, it gets them every time", he grinned.

Eirwen gasped, "Oh! The flower for the dog, I forgot all about it!"

_I've heard of some odd reactions to the Joining but never anything like this!_ "Flower?" Alistair eyed her warily.

Eirwen felt flustered, aware of how foolish her words had sounded. She felt the tips of her ears flush and turned to face Alistair, forcing her face into a mask of impassivity to cover her embarrassment.

"The shem that cares for the hounds asked me to look out for a plant he needs to treat one of them."

_Oh no, that look again. I hate it when she does that. She talks about giving flowers to dogs then looks at me making me feel like I'm the fool_. "Ah, I see!" Alistair chuckled nervously, "For a moment there I thought that maybe you and the dog were courting."

"Courting?" She hesitated, " What is courting?"

_Phew, I thought she was going to do the eyebrow thing then. That little frown's quite cute._ "It's ...er...." _Don't panic. Just stop talking._ Alistair started backing away, "Well then, you go and see the man about a dog and I'll be back soon with some food."

Baffled, Eirwen watched him turn and flee then shrugged and retrieved the plant she had picked earlier from her quiver. It was looking decidedly wilted but she hoped it would suffice. She headed over to the human who cared for the hounds and was quietly pleased that he was delighted with the plant, wilted or not. He tried to give her some silver, which she refused indignantly. Why would he think she did this for reward? She noted that the shem seems equally baffled by her refusal. Trying not to feel offended she reminded herself that the ways of the Shem were different to the Dalish and he had probably not intended to shame her by suggesting that she had helped purely for a reward.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly Warden, anything I can do to help."

"What is courting?"

The kennel master's eyes widened in surprise. He has expected a request for a favour of some sort. He shuffled uncomfortably trying to gauge if she was teasing him and decided that she wasn't. "Well, it's when a young man an' a young lady like each other an' start..." he shrugged helplessly, struggling to find the words "...gettin' ta know each other!" he finished with a flash of inspiration.

"I see. This involves flowers?"

"Well sometimes Miss...I mean Warden. Often the young man will give the young lady a flower as a token of his affection."

"Ah." She smiled up at him, "Thank you for explaining it to me."

"Yer welcome Warden. An' thank you again for the flower, I'm very grateful."

Eirwen merely nodded and turned back towards Duncan's fire. She could see Alistair there and her stomach growled loudly. With some surprise she realised that she was famished and hurried back.

"Ah, there you are! Here, Lamb and Pea stew." Alistair beamed at her handing her a steaming bowl of...mush. He hunkered down and attacked his own with obvious relish. Eirwen sniffed the steaming stew cautiously and, deciding that it was unlikely to harm her, hunkered down at the side of him and started to eat. Although bland, the stew was warm and filling. The pair ate in silence until Eirwen said softly, "Alistair, what happened to Daveth and Jory?"

"You were there, you saw what happened" he answered brusquely.

Eirwen put her empty bowl down and sat down, hugging her knees. Looking rather shamefaced she told him "By the time we got to the old temple it was all I could do to stand up. I remember them arguing but I couldn't follow what they were saying. It felt like I was in a deep cave looking out at them and they were too far away to hear. I remember hearing you, the words you said, then Daveth disappeared and I couldn't figure out where he had gone. Jory looked terrified and Duncan stepped in front of him; when he moved away Jory was gone too. Then all I could see was Duncan's face. I could see his lips moving but all I could hear was the roaring in my ears. I felt something in my hands and all I could think was that I had to drink my medicine."

In spite of himself, Alistair couldn't help the snort of amusement that burst from him. "Medicine? Well, that's a new one!" He sobered again, "Well, I suppose for you, it was a kind of medicine. The kill or cure kind."

At his snort of laughter Eirwen hid her face against her knees to cover her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Eirwen lifted her head and looked at him, confused.

"Sorry? What for?"

He looked slightly sheepish, "Duncan explained to me you were...ill. When we went out into the Wilds this afternoon he asked me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you didn't overdo things. You seemed fine and I thought he was exaggerating. On the way back I was distracted, thinking about those witches, and too busy being suspicious of the one leading us back to even check how you were holding up. I should have been more observant."

Eirwen shrugged. "To be fair, I didn't realise myself how awful I felt until we arrived back here and stopped. Anyway, it turned out alright, yes? For me at least, you still haven't told me about Jory and Daveth."

Alistair sighed, frowning. "They're both dead. The Joining ritual is either successful or fatal. Some people just aren't strong enough somehow. Daveth drank from the chalice and died. Jory, well he..."

"What? What did Jory do?"

"When he saw Daveth die he panicked. He drew his sword on Duncan so...Duncan killed him."

Eirwen gasped, shocked. Alistair grimaced, "It's not pleasant but Duncan had no choice. There is no turning back once the ritual had begun. Please, don't think badly of Duncan for it."

"Duncan? Why would I think badly of Duncan? He was doing his duty. I can't believe Jory drew his sword on him!"

Startled beyond words, Alistair opened his mouth then closed it again.

Eirwen watched his reaction carefully, her face settling back into the calm impassivity it so often wore. "The Dalish understand duty Alistair. That is why I am here. The wrong was Jory's not Duncan's."

"You're very quick to pass judgement!" he retorted defensively, feeling as though she had somehow criticised him. "It's easy for you to judge Jory so harshly. You're the one sitting here by the fire, warm and full of stew. Jory had just watched Daveth _die_ whereas you, by your own admission, had no idea if you were in Ostagar or on the moon!"

She stood up, her still face revealing none of the anger that had flared up inside her at his words. "You are wrong Alistair. It is not easy for me to judge," she said quietly "Not Duncan, not Jory, not you. Your own words to me were that Duncan had no choice. Why are you upset that I agree? Do you not believe your own words?" Stooping she picked up her bow and slung it across her shoulder and without a backward glance set off to find Duncan.

Alistair roared with frustration and kicked out at the bowl at his feet, sending it crashing into the fire. _Damn Dalish! Who does she think she is? Miss High and Mighty always looking down her nose at the __**Shems**__ with her __**looks**__ and her blasted __**eyebrow**__!_ His flash of temper over almost as soon as it had begun he rubbed his hand over his hair and sighed. The worst of it was she had hit the nail on the head. While his head told him that Duncan had been entirely in the right, his heart wasn't so sure. Maker knows he hadn't particularly liked Ser Jory and was a little surprised that Duncan had considered him a suitable recruit at all but at the end of the day, all the man wanted to do was protect his family. Not liking the man didn't mean that Alistair didn't feel sorry for him and he certainly hadn't disliked him enough to wish him harm. Not like Eirwen, he thought crossly, who didn't appear to give a damn about anything. With a sigh he reached across for Eirwen's bowl, deciding to take it back. _I even have to clear up after her_ Scowling he wandered off, trying to think up a suitable excuse for the bowl that lay shattered in the fire.

When he returned, Duncan and Eirwen were waiting for him. Eirwen turned that calm gaze on him briefly then looked away. _Yeah, don't waste that look on me, I'm on to you._ Alistair turned his attention to Duncan.

"You and Alistair shall go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit."

"What?!" spluttered Alistair. "I won't be in the battle?"

"This is by the King's personal request Alistair. If the beacon's not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

"So he needs two Grey Wardens up there holding the torch, just in case right?" retorted Alistair sarcastically.

"I'm ready to go," said Eirwen quietly.

_Oh right, you would be. Ready to do your Dalish duty_ He sighed, of course, she was right again. _Maker, I hope she's not going to be right all the time._ "Let's go then." He tried to keep the petulant note out of his voice, not entirely successfully. Eirwen turned to leave but Alistair paused, "Duncan. May the Maker watch over you."

"May he watch over us all."


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair stared at the water, brooding. It was the third day he'd spent, lost in thought, trying to make sense of what had happened. That was the trouble though; it didn't make any sense at all. It was supposed to be so simple; he and Eirwen were to hang around at the top of the tower and watch for the signal to light the beacon. Loghain would then bring his troops into the battle, the Darkspawn would be defeated and they'd all go home afterwards. Except that nothing had gone right.

The Tower of Ishal had been overrun with Darkspawn when he and Eirwen had arrived. A mage and a guard had stayed to help them and it had seemed to take forever to fight their way to the top. They'd struggled every step of the way, fighting their way through seemingly endless Darkspawn on every level, slowly working their way up. He remembered watching her fight, so graceful and _at ease_ with it. He'd been impressed with her ability on their little excursion into the Wilds but he could see now that her illness had slowed her down. After their talk at Duncan's fire he'd been furious with her, convinced that she was a cold, heartless bitch yet in the Tower of Ishal she'd been vibrant, exhilarated even, and utterly lethal. He had been loath to admit it at the time but she had inspired him, as if she gave off energy and it was infectious somehow. He had never fought like that before. He remembered emerging onto yet another level filled with Darkspawn and remarking that there wasn't supposed to be any fighting in the Tower and she had thrown her head back and laughed then reminded him that he had been put out earlier at the thought of not fighting.

He smiled sadly as he remembered that laugh. It was the first time he'd heard her laugh; he hoped he would hear it again. He looked back at the door of the old witch's hut longingly. She was still in there. Why didn't she wake up?! He shivered. _Damned apostates_. It went against every instinct he had to trust them but he had no choice. The older one, the batty old woman was incredibly cagey about how she had rescued them and the snippy young one just referred all queries to her mother. He remembered reaching the top of the Tower and seeing the Ogre. _Oh Maker, the Ogre!_ It still made his insides drop to remember it. He'd heard of them but never seen one before. He still wasn't sure how they'd defeated it. It had seemed like some mad game, run in and hit it then dodge away again. Between them, Eirwen and the mage had managed to slow it down a little, then it had grabbed the guard who'd come with them and _squished_ him. Alistair shuddered and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths as his head swam at the memory. He shook his head as he remembered how the Ogre had paused, contemplating the limp guard held in its fist, when, flinging aside her bow, Eirwen had drawn her daggers and leaped through the air with a howl of rage. His heart had almost stopped when she flew past him and buried her blades in the Ogre's chest then used them to _climb_ up it and sink them deep in its throat. As the great monster fell she had jumped down landing lightly by his side. While he had stood there, stunned, she had run across the room and lit the signal beacon. He was still trying to take in what she had done when the door flew open and a swarm of Darkspawn poured into the chamber. He had turned and saw her eyes go wide as the arrows had slammed into her. He remembered noticing that she had lost her helmet and then nothing.

Nothing until he had woken up in the witches' hut. The older one told him that he too had taken arrows but he didn't remember feeling them at all. She had healed his wounds quickly and efficiently and he was soon up and about but Eirwen was still lying there, the only sign she wasn't dead the steady fall and rise of her chest. The batty one said it wasn't the arrows that were the problem, that she had hit her head hard when she fell. Although she said there was nothing further she could do for her, she assured him Eirwen would live, it was just a question of time. Time, he mused, he supposed they had plenty of that. What he really couldn't get to grips with was Loghain. They'd been late with the signal, but they had managed to get it lit in the end. If the witch was to be believed, at that point Loghain had simply turned his army round and _quit the field!_ It was so monstrous he still wasn't convinced it could be true. But why would the witch lie to him? She said that the King was dead, the King's army was dead. He hung his head, overwhelmed with misery; the Grey Wardens were dead. He wondered if Duncan had seen the beacon, had known that they hadn't let him down or if he'd died, waiting for reinforcements that didn't come, believing that Alistair and Eirwen had failed. Alistair rubbed his hand roughly over his face desperate to stifle the sob that felt like it was going to choke him if he didn't let it out.

He started as the old witch spoke behind him. "See, here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much young man."

Spinning, he could scarcely believe his eyes as Eirwen emerged from the hut. "You...you're alive." If he hadn't been so relieved, he probably would have blushed at the sound of his own voice, thick with emotion. He made a feeble attempt at a chuckle, "I thought you were dead for sure."

A flicker passed over her face, "I'm not, thanks to Morrigan's mother."

"Duncan's dead. The Grey Warden's...even the King. They're all dead" he gestured helplessly, swallowing hard. "This doesn't seem real."

Eirwen crossed to him and took his hand between her own, "I know," she said gazing up at him, her eyes full of sympathy, "Morrigan told me."

_Maker, don't look at me like that, where's the cold, heartless bitch when I need her._

Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that Tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present lad." The elder witch's haughty tones washed over them like icy water.

Eirwen dropped his hand and they both turned to face the witch. Alistair seemed flustered. "I-I didn't mean ..." he started apologetically "...but wh-what do we call you? You've never told us your name?"

"Names are pretty but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth, I suppose it will do. "

"_The_ Flemeth, from the legends? Daveth was right. You're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Something in Alistair's tone made Eirwen wary. She stood quietly, watching the witch and the young man carefully.

Alistair shot a sideways glance at her. _There it is, I can cope with __**that**__ look._

"And what does that mean?" asked Flemeth scornfully. "I know a bit of magic and it had served you both well, has it not?"

"Why _did_ you save us?" asked Eirwen quietly.

"Well, we can't have all the Grey Wardens dying at once can we? Someone has to deal with all these Darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight, has it not? Or has that changed when I wasn't looking?"

"Of course not," replied Eirwen

"But we were fighting the Darkspawn," protested Alistair. "The King had nearly defeated them. Why would Loghain _do_ this?" _Ah, there it is again. __**Duty**__. She'll love this._

"Now that's a good question. Mens hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can out-manoeuvre; perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

Alistair growled, "The Archdemon."

"Then we need to find this Archdemon," stated Eirwen

"By ourselves?" asked Alistair incredulously. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at its back," he explained. "Not mention, I don't know how!"

"How to kill the Archdemon or how to raise an army?" enquired Flemeth archly. "It seems to me that these are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

"I-I don't know," stammered Alistair. "Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called and Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely?"

"Arl Eamon?" asked Eirwen

"Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar, he still has all his men," Allistair told her. "And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him, he's a _good_ man, respected in the Landsmeet." Alistair brightened, "We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help."

"Are there other allies we can call on?"

Alistair almost seemed animated, "Of course, the Treaties! The Grey Wardens can demand aid from Dwarves, Elves, Mages and other places. They're obligated to help us during a Blight."

Flemeth chuckled, "I may be old, but Dwarves, Elves, Mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else; this sounds like army to me."

Alistair turned to Eirwen, his face full of hope, "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army?"

Eirwen fought down a rising tide of panic. _Why does he look to me to decide? I know nothing of this Shem world, of Treaties and Arls and Blights._ Then she looked at Alistair. When she had left the hut he had looked so alone, the way he stood was so defeated, then he had turned and looked at her and she had seen the pain and grief written plainly across his face. He had looked at her like she was some kind of mirage and she had realised that she was the only thing left in his world and, as far as she knew, there was nowhere he could go back to; no clan he could rejoin. Yet now, with just a few words of encouragement from Flemeth he was standing tall, his eyes shining with hope. _Is this the puppy dog look he mentioned? How do I say no? It would tear the heart from him._

"Why not? Isn't that Grey Wardens do?" _Creator save me, I must be mad. Why am I not halfway back to my Clan by now?_

Alistair beamed at her and it was like the sun briefly emerging from behind a cloud. She let her thoughts drift for a moment. _Puppy dog is it? I shall have to be more wary in future, who knows what scrapes he'll get us into_. _He reminds me a little of Tamlen, all energy and enthusiasm. Oh go on Eirwen, it'll be __**exciting**__!_ She sighed sadly _And look how that ended._

Eirwen came to, realising that Alistair was looking at her oddly and Flemeth was talking. Morrigan had joined them and her sharp "What?!" told Eirwen she had missed something significant.

"You heard me girl, the last time I looked you had ears."

Eirwen felt flustered, "Of course," she retorted.

"Have I no say in this?" demanded Morrigan

_Oh no, what have I agreed to? I thought she was talking to me!_

Alistair glared at her.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years, here is your chance." Flemeth turned to Eirwen "As for you, consider this repayment for your lives."

Eirwen nodded dumbly. Was Morrigan coming with them? While she was still trying to work out what was going on, Alistair was arguing with Flemeth. _What __**was**__ an apostate anyway?_ Flemeth reminded him of their _debt_ and that was enough to still his arguments.

"We'll wait over here while you say your farewells." He said, grabbing Eirwen by the arm and virtually dragging her away. Stumbling slightly, she struggled to keep up with him. When he stopped she wrenched her arm away and opened her mouth to speak.

"What were you thinking of?!" he hissed at her.

She flushed and lowered her eyes. "I-I..."

"She tells you she'd like us to take her _witchy daughter_ gallivanting around Ferelden and all you can say is 'Of course'! Are you mad?"

Eirwen looked up at him in shock, blushing furiously, "I thought she said..." she mumbled trailing off.

"What? You thought she said what?"

"She said something about hearing her and the last time she looked I had ears", she shot back furiously.

Alistair rubbed his hand frantically through his hair, "Andrate's flaming sword! She was talking to Morrigan, not you! Were you even listening? He groaned, "No you weren't were you? You'd gone all dreamy-eyed and floated off somewhere else. Would it be too much to ask for you to pay attention?"

"I'm sorry! I just...anyway, why do you have your smallclothes in a twist about it?" Eirwen could feel her temper rising, and balled her fists.

"Why? Because she's an _apostate_, that's why." Alistair snarled at her?

"She's a _what_? Is this about toads again?"

Alistair gawked at her. "You really have no idea do you?"

Hands on her hips, Eirwen glared up at him furiously, "No Mister Know-It-All Alistair, I really don't. In case you missed it, I'm Dalish. I've spent my whole life avoiding Shem like you, doing my best to stay out of your world. All I've ever known is my Clan." Eirwen spun away from him suddenly as a wave of homesickness rose up in her, biting her lip hard to stop it trembling, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Alistair was horrified. _Don't cry, please don't cry._ He swore softly under his breath. _ Stupid fool, of course she doesn't know. The Dalish have their own mages, their Keepers, the concept of apostates probably doesn't even exist for them._ Tentatively he reached out and touched her shoulder. She stiffened but didn't shrug him off, which he took as a good sign.

"I'm sorry Eirwen," he said softly, "I hadn't thought about how...alien this must all seem to you." He stopped, unsure how to continue. He flinched as Morrigan appeared next to them.

"If you two have stopped hissing at each other like a pair of cats, may I suggest Lothering as our first destination? It is not far and you will find much you need there. Or if you prefer I shall simply be your silent guide, the choice is yours."

"I think we should just get underway," said Eirwen quietly. "We'll get our things." Avoiding Alistair's gaze she ducked past him and disappeared into the hut to fetch her weapons. With a look of resignation Alistair followed her reluctantly. He stood aside at the narrow doorway to let her back out and although she acknowledged the courtesy with a nod, she refused to look at him.

_Maker's breath. An elf who thinks I'm an insensitive __**Shem**__ and an __**apostate**__...this isn't going to be a fun trip._


	6. Chapter 6

Morrigan looked up at the rapidly darkening sky; the light was fading fast.

"There's a small hollow ahead, 'twould be a good place to make camp I believe" she announced to her companions. Alistair just shrugged and stomped grumpily towards the hollow she had pointed out.

"Thank you Morrigan," said Eirwen, following Alistair and resisting the urge to roll her eyes behind his back.

Arriving in the hollow she looked around approvingly then tilted her head listening carefully.

"Alistair, would you mind collecting up some wood and getting a fire started?" she asked mildly.

Alistair scowled and headed over towards the trees, "Do this, do that," he grumbled under his breath. As he disappeared under the cover of the trees, he turned and looked back to see Eirwen heading in the other direction. Curious in spite of himself, he worked his way around under the trees, trying to figure out where she was going, pausing occasionally along the way to gather up suitable sticks and small branches. Coming to the edge of the trees he stopped. He could hear the sound of running water and ahead of him the evening sun threw up a reflection from the stream that lay just ahead. He looked round puzzled. _Where did she go? Oh no, I hope she's not bathing, she'll think I'm spying on her!_ Slowly he took a step backwards and was rooted to the spot as a twig cracked loudly under his foot. _Clumsy great oaf!_

"Shhhh! You'll frighten the fish." He heard her fierce whisper but still couldn't see her. Carefully laying down the firewood he had collected he crept forwards...as stealthily as a big man in splint mail can. Looking around he spotted her lying on the bank next to a clump of reeds. The stream ran into what was effectively a small pond, the water prettily reflecting the setting sun. She had her arm in the water almost up to her elbow. He watched her curiously, baffled by her strange behaviour. She gestured to him with her free hand to remain still. All of a sudden she scooped her arm out of the water, flipping a fish out onto the bank. Grasping the thrashing fish she banged its head sharply on a stone and it was still.

"Fresh trout for supper." She grinned up at him.

"Hmmph, I don't think one fish is going to go far between three of us," he grumbled, determined not to appear impressed.

Eirwen drew a small, sharp knife from her belt and quickly gutted and cleaned the fish. "It's a good job I caught more then, isn't it?" Leaning over she reached her hand into the reed bed and pulled out a stick with several cleaned fish threaded on to it. Getting to her feet she regarded him impassively, "You think two each will be enough?" she asked him as she moved past him and sauntered back to the camp. Sighing, Alistair stooped and collected up the firewood and followed her. _Well done Alistair, the __**look**__ is back._

Once back at the hollow Alistair busied himself getting a fire started while Eirwen went to talk briefly with Morrigan. She returned, carrying what looked like wild carrots and some herbs, and started to cook the food over the fire. Alistair felt uncomfortable. He felt a bit like a spare part, Eirwen and Morrigan were both obviously more than capable of scraping up a decent meal between them. He also felt extremely guilty about his quarrel earlier with Eirwen. He looked round checking out where Morrigan was and was slightly surprised to see her setting up her own fire at the edge of the hollow. He sat down near the fire watching Eirwen work, clearing his throat anxiously. She gave no sign to acknowledge his presence, just getting on quietly with what she had to do. He sat staring at the flames, trying to work out in his head what he wanted to say. _Think it through Alistair, don't leap in with both feet and bumble about making things worse._

"Alistair," Eirwen's quiet voice cut through his thoughts making him jump. "Would you mind telling Morrigan that the food is ready? She said that she had some..." she floundered for a second, searching for the right word, "utensils we can use. She'll bring them over with her."

He nodded and rose, giving Morrigan the message as quickly as he could then scuttled back to the main camp fire. Morrigan followed him carrying a battered collection of tin plates and assorted cutlery. "Mother has always hoarded the oddest things asserting that they may come in useful one day," she said setting them down. Eirwen smiled and nodded her thanks at Morrigan and swiftly set about dividing up the food. She handed a plate to Alistair who wasted no time tucking into the fish, carrots and wilted greens. Eirwen watched him, the ghost of a smile on her lips and handed another plate to Morrigan, then picked up her own plate and set to with almost as much gusto as Alistair. Alistair noted that she looked almost as surprised as he felt when Morrigan thanked Eirwen, then rose carrying her plate back to her own fire. He briefly caught Eirwen's eye and she just shrugged at him and returned her attention to her meal.

Setting his plate down with a contented sigh, Alistair decided he needed to get his apology over and done with. "Eirwen," he began hesitantly. She looked at him, saying nothing, just that impassive look on her face, waiting for him to continue. He flushed under her steady gaze, and fiddled with a buckle on his armour. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I completely over-reacted and it was thoughtless of me not to consider how difficult all this must be for you too." He searched her face, looking for some hint his apology was accepted. Eirwen gazed at him thoughtfully then nodded slightly.

"I am sorry too Alistair. You were right; I _should_ have been paying attention to Flemeth." She frowned, "I was wrong to respond in the way I did. To speak of Shems, humans, in the derogatory way I did and to include you in that."

He shook his head. "Really, you don't need to apologise for that. Like I said before, it was thoughtless of me not to recognise how strange and new a lot of this must seem to you."

She peered at him as if choosing her words carefully, "My experience of sh-humans has been very limited. They are viewed with suspicion by the Dalish and not without good reason however I recognise that my view is rather one-sided and not without prejudice. While it may be true for some, it doesn't apply to all."

"That works both ways," he replied. "You probably have more experience of humans than I do of the Dalish."

Eirwen smiled at him, "Your ignorance of the Dalish is probably less of a practical problem right now."

Alistair chuckled, "Yes, I see what you mean. It's strange; so much of what I take for granted is completely foreign to you."

She nodded at him, "Indeed." She drew up her knees and hugged her legs, peering at him over the top of them. "Most of the time I feel so _confused_. I feel like I'm always having to search for clues, just to try and figure out what's going on and then when I think I've got it all worked out the answer turns out to be completely different to what I thought."

"Really? Is that what _the look_ is? he asked incredulously.

She tilted her head at him, "The look?"

He nodded, trying not to laugh. "You get this look, all cool and watchful, like you know _exactly_ what's going on and you're just waiting for everyone else to catch up." He snorted with laughter, "That's really you being confused? Oh Maker! Do you have any idea how _scary_ that look is?" Unable to restrain himself, he threw back his head his head and howled with laughter.

Eirwen couldn't help but snigger, his laughter was infectious, "Scary? You think I'm scary."

Alistair nodded, unable to stop the laughter bubbling out of him, "Utt-utterly terrifying!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Morrigan loomed out of the darkness and threw down her plate and cutlery beside him. "When you are recovered from your bout of hysteria Ser Warden can I assume you'll be doing the washing up? Twould also be appreciated if you would keep the noise down as some of us want to sleep tonight."

Solemnly Alistair looked up at her, "Riiiight washing up, I'm good at that. I got lots of practice in the Chantry."

Morrigan turned on her heel and flounced back to her own fire. Eirwen caught Alistair's eye and they both dissolved into fits of giggles. "Shhhh!" sputtered Alistair, "She needs to get her beauty sleep."

Eirwen grinned up at him and passed over her empty plate, "Go and do your duty Ser Warden," she told him with a grin. He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation and rose, gathering up the dirty pots stacked them by the fire. Eirwen raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you expect me to do? If I try to find my way to that stream in the pitch dark, the last you'll hear of me is a clatter and a splash and you'll never see me or the plates again."

"I suppose that's a fair point," she conceded then looked at him sternly, "First thing in the morning then. You don't want to get into trouble with Morrigan."

"Maker forbid!" he agreed fervently.

"Alistair?"

"Mmmm?"

"Will you explain an apostate is? And why you think Morrigan being one is so bad?"

He frowned thoughtfully, "It's not that apostates are necessarily bad; although the Chantry wouldn't agree. It's more that her being one is a risk, it could draw unwanted attention. The Dalish have mages too yes? Your Keepers?"

She nodded. "Each clan has a Keeper. They are more than just mages though."

He looked at her quizzically. "They are our leaders, our lore keepers and our teachers. They are held in great esteem," she explained.

He nodded, "I see. Our way is very different. The Chantry holds magic as dangerous and it is treated with caution and suspicion, as are those who wield it. Any child who shows magical ability is taken to the Circle of Mages, where they're taught how to use their magic. The Chantry controls the Circle by means of its Templars. They're Knights of the Chantry who guard the mages; they protect the mages and also protect people from mages. They also hunt down those mages who escape the control of Circle, that is what an apostate is. Most of them are mages who have been trained at the Circle and escaped, but there are some like Morrigan, who have never been under the control of the Circle at all, although it's difficult to say how many of those there might be. Very few I suspect."

"I see, I think. The Chantry is powerful yes?"

Alistair nodded, "Oh yes! The last thing we need to do is bring the Chantry and its Templars down on us because we have an apostate mage in our company."

Eirwen sighed, "On the other hand can we send her away? Quite apart from the fact that having a mage with us might prove useful, we have a lot to do after all."

Alistair groaned and ran his hand through his hair, "Don't remind me! Every time I think about it I feel ill. It just seems so ... so _massive_!

"Well then, we break it up into smaller manageable pieces and deal with one piece at a time."

He smiled at her, "Alright then, where do we start?"

She stifled a yawn, "We get some sleep and head to Lothering tomorrow."

"Good plan!" he reached behind him and grabbed a bedroll and blanket which he tossed over to her.

"Good night Eirwen."

"Good night Lethallin"

Alistair looked at her curiously, "What does that mean? Leth...?

She smiled across at him, "Leth-a-llin. It means 'friend of mine'."

He grinned at her. "Really? "

He didn't quite know what to say to that but for some reason he felt extraordinarily pleased with himself. Ducking his head to hide the blush he could feel rising in his face he muttered a final 'g'night' and settled himself down to sleep.

* * *

Alistair sat quietly watching the fire. He'd hoped to get a decent night's sleep but had woken after only a couple of hours, as far as he could tell. Thoughts of Duncan and the other Wardens kept crowding in. Eventually he'd stopped trying to settle back to sleep and resigned himself to waiting quietly for the sun to come up. He looked over his shoulder, he could see a faint glimmer of light on the horizon. Not long now then. He sighed and rolled his shoulders trying to ease some of the tension there. Broodily he returned his gaze to the flames. A noise made him lift his head and he looked across to where Eirwen lay. She stirred restlessly, whimpering softly. He moved closer. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she twitched convulsively. Alistair hesitated; his first instinct was to wake her but wasn't it bad to wake someone from a nightmare? Or was that sleep walkers? He couldn't remember. Another whimper, louder this time. Gently he shook her arm and called her name softly. He felt her stiffen and shook her again a bit harder. With a gasp, she woke, her eyes wild with fear.

"Shhh," he soothed her, "It was just a dream."

He could see her tremble, panic still in her eyes, "I-It seemed so real," she whispered hoarsely.

Alistair sat back. "It is real, in a way," he explained. "Part of being a Grey Warden is being able to _hear_ the Darkspawn. The Archdemon 'talks' to the horde and we hear it too. That's why we're sure this is a Blight."

Eirwen sat up, "I saw a Dragon," she told him.

He nodded, "That's the Archdemon, although I don't know if it's really a Dragon."

"Do all Grey Wardens have such dreams then? Do you?"

He nodded, "At the start they do although you learn to block them out. Some of the older Grey Wardens claim to be able to understand the Archdemon but I never could."

Calmer now, Eirwen looked down feeling embarrassed, "I feel so silly, being so scared of a dream."

He smiled sympathetically, "Don't," he told her, "I found them scary at first too."

She looked at him uncertainly, wondering if he was just trying to console her, "Really?"

He nodded, looking slightly sheepish, "Really."

She smiled at him gratefully, "Thank you Lethallin."

He grinned at her rising to his feet. _Friend of mine, I like the sound of that_. "The sun's coming up, I should be able to find that stream now without falling into it. I'd better see to those dishes before our witch wakes up and turned me into a toad."


	7. Chapter 7

Eirwen led the way, Morrigan and Alistair following close behind. She tried to ignore the tension in the air. Alistair brooded morosely behind her, his lighter mood long gone. Eirwen pursed her lips feeling exasperated with the pair of them. Before they had even left camp the two of them had been bickering like children and it was starting to get on Eirwen's nerves. Thankfully, for the time being, they had both retreated into silence although the tense atmosphere was palpable.

Eirwen stopped abruptly, some strange sensation tugging at her. Almost falling over her, Alistair grumbled darkly, then looked around. "Darkspawn ahead," he muttered. Warily the party proceeded. Alistair had armed himself with his sword and shield and Eirwen unslung her bow, an arrow at the ready. As they rounded the bend in the narrow lane they followed, a party of around ten Darkspawn came into view. Alistair raised his shield and charged as Eirwen loosed her first arrow. Eirwen was distracted by a loud howling and was startled to see a huge hound run out of the trees and hurl itself at the Darkspawn. She let fly with more arrows as Morrigan raised her staff and murmured under her breath. One of the Darkspawn was frozen to the spot and shattered as Alistair struck it with his shield. Between the three of them and the hound the Darkspawn didn't stand a chance and it seemed no time at all before the whole band was slaughtered. Alistair ambled back towards Eirwen and Morrigan, wearing a look of grim satisfaction. The hound bounded past him and almost gambolled up to Eirwen. It bounced around her happily, barking. She looked at it puzzled.

"I think he likes you," said Alistair.

"I think this is the dog that was sick at Ostagar," she told him. "The one I helped the kennel master with. He said the dog's owner had died, or at least he thought he had."

She knelt down on one knee and held out her hand. The dog quieted and scooted up to her whining softly. She scratched his head behind his ears and he pressed against her hand in delight.

"I think he's chosen you. Mabari are like that, they call it imprinting."

Eirwen looked at the dog, "You want to join us?" she asked. The dog woofed softly.

Morrigan snorted in disgust, "You're not thinking of keeping that mangy beast are you?"

"He's not mangy!" drawled Alistair indignantly.

The dog looked at Morrigan and growled softly. "Stop it," said Eirwen sternly, pulling the dog's face back towards her, "If you are coming with us, you are not allowed to eat Morrigan." The hound whined, putting his ears flat, trying to look as penitent as he could. "

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, and then thought better of it when Eirwen frowned at him. He held his hands up, trying to look innocent. "What? I didn't say anything!" he protested. "So are you going to keep him?"

Eirwen got to her feet and nodded, "I don't see why not." The dog barked happily and Morrigan made do with sighing loudly.

"You'll have to think of a name for him," Alistair told her.

Eirwen tilted her head regarding the dog thoughtfully. "I shall call him Gelert," she announced. "Gelert was a brave and loyal hound who lived long ago." The dog barked in satisfaction.

Skirting the dead Darkspawn the small group continued. Alistair moved up to walk with Eirwen and Gelert, Morrigan sulked behind them.

"Alistair," Eirwen hesitated, unsure how to put the question she wanted to ask.

"Hmmmm?"

"Before we saw the Darkspawn. It was strange."

"You felt them?"

"I'm not sure. I...I felt something, I think."

He nodded. "It's a strange feeling. Slightly sickening", he shrugged "Or at least that's how I experience it. I'm not sure if all Wardens experience it in the same way. I only know that all Wardens are able to sense the Darkspawn."

"And they can sense us."

He nodded. He frowned slightly. "It took a while for me to be able to feel them, but of course there weren't nearly so many aboutafter my Joining. At first I wasn't even sure that's what the feeling was until I'd felt it a few times. You get so you can tell roughly how many there are and how far away they are. Not that I'm _that _good though...yet." He grimaced and added bitterly, "I'm getting better by the day though."

Eirwen glanced at him, unsure what to say. She felt like she should say something, to try and offer some comfort but could think of nothing that wouldn't sound like a meaningless platitude. She didn't know what to make of him. He seemed moody and volatile, she found him unpredictable. She reminded herself that he had been under enormous stress apart from the first afternoon on their trip out into the Wilds at Ostagar. He had seemed steady enough then up until their encounter with Morrigan at the ruin, which had clearly rattled all three men. As to the Joining, well, that was all still very hazy in her memory and likely to stay that way. He had clearly been upset afterwards which, she supposed, wasn't unreasonable from what he had told her about it afterwards. If she'd been more alert for the initiation she had to admit she might well have lost her composure. There had been their frantic fight to the top of the Tower of Ishal. He had certainly been composed enough for that. It wasn't just that his skill as a warrior had been obvious but that he was _confident_ in that skill.

She wondered how different he would be if Loghain hadn't withdrawn his men from the battle at Ostagar, if they had won the battle. Apart from their spat after the Joining he had been pretty consistent. It had only been since she awoke at Flemeth's hut that she had found him to be particularly unpredictable and that was entirely understandable. She felt the tips of her ears flush as she remembered how he had looked at her when she had left the small hut; like a drowning man finding something to hold on to. Since then his mood had fluctuated wildly. Morrigan wasn't helping, she took every opportunity to needle him and Alistair, instead of ignoring her, reacted to every jibe. It was obvious that they viewed each other with dislike and suspicion. Eirwen felt like she was missing something but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Some nuance of Shem culture that she wasn't experienced enough to recognise?

Alistair stopped and pointed, "Look, Lothering. We've made good time."

Eirwen felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. She had never been to a Shem settlement before. From time to time members of her clan had visited such places to trade but she had never gone with them. She felt excited, curious and terrified at the same time. A great stone walkway ran alongside Lothering and slowly they made their way down to it. It reminded Eirwen of Ostagar, built by the same people she wondered? As they got down on to the viaduct they could see small group of men ahead of them, the way beyond them was blocked with debris.

"Uh-oh, these could be trouble," Alistair breathed quietly. One of them advanced, his hand held up to stop them. Eirwen stopped quiet and still, waiting. Gelert growled softly and she touched her fingers to the top of his head to quiet him. Behind them, Morrigan took the staff from her back.

"Wake up gentlemen! More travellers to attend to. Led by an Elf of all things."

Alistair bristled at the man's words and cast a sideways glance at Eirwen. _Yep, there's the __**look**__ again. Now, is this confused or just waiting for the __**Shem**__ to dig himself into a hole?_

The man was joined by one of his companions who looked at them uncertainly. The newcomer was massive and bore a huge maul on his back but his face wore the look of a simpleton.

"Er...they don't look much like them others. Maybe we should let them pass."

_His candle might not burn as brightly but he's not **that **stupid either. Ooh, her eyebrow twitched!_

"Nonsense! Greetings travellers!"

"Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the Darkspawn I suppose." muttered Alistair

"They are fools to get in our way," hissed Morrigan. "I say we teach them a lesson."

"Now is that any way to greet someone?" asked the man, tutting in disapproval. "A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on."

"I don't have ten silvers," Eirwen told him, which was no less than the truth.

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that. We have rules you know."

"I care nothing for your rules Shem. You are nothing more than a bandit."

At that the men attacked. As Alistair barged into them with his shield, Eirwen was already darting behind them, her curved Dar'Misu flashing. Gelert didn't hesitate and flung himself, snarling, at the big man reaching for the maul; his iron jaws fastening around the man's arm. Gelert held him still long enough for Eirwen's blade to slice across the man's throat. One of the bandits darted past them and started to fit an arrow to his bow. With a feral grin Morrigan turned and before he could loose his arrow the bandit was encased in ice. Eirwen drew her arm back and hurled one of her Dar'Misu at him as hard as she could. It spun through the air and the bandit shattered when it struck him. Alistair yanked his long sword out of the belly of one bandit, fending off another with his shield. The man screamed as his guts spilled. Grunting with effort Alistair pushed his shield against the remaining bandit as he tried to reposition himself to bring his sword round. He saw a blade appear against the man's throat, then warm blood spattered and the bandit collapsed without a sound. The gutted bandit lay screaming, desperately trying to stuff his intestines back into his belly. With a grimace Alistair finished him quickly.

Eirwen walked over to the shattered bandit and retrieved her Dar'Misu. Meanwhile Alistair was inspecting a couple of crates at the side of the viaduct. Having sheathed her weapons, Eirwen walked over to him.

"Look at this, this must be the stuff they've taken from other people," said Alistair. There was a bag of coins, mostly silver, and assorted bits and pieces; a dagger, some small pieces of jewellery.

"The money will be useful," said Morrigan "And we can sell the other things."

Eirwen stared at her in shock, "That would be stealing!"

"Well," said Alistair reluctantly, "We have no way of knowing who these things belong to and, I don't know about you, but I don't have more than a few silver. How much do you have?"

Eirwen shook her head, "I have no money. I've never had any use for it."

"We'll need to get supplies, we've got a lot of travelling to do. We probably don't need to get much but we will need _some_ money and more than the handful of silver I have. I can see why you don't like the idea of taking this but we have to be practical."

As much as she disliked it, Eirwen could see the logic of his argument. Her face set, she turned and headed towards the ramp, "Do what you like," she muttered.

Alistair sighed, understanding her disapproval, but hating it too. Grabbing the purse and other items he stowed them in his pack. It grated on him but he was more inclined to Morrigan's pragmatic approach in this instance. He rejoined the two women at the top of the ramp leading down to Lothering. Eirwen was looking down at the village. As he joined them she pointed, "Why are those men wearing skirts?" she asked. Morrigan sniggered earning a scowl from Alistair which bothered her not one bit.

"Those are Templars," he explained. "They wear robes as well as armour. Trust me, they're heavily armoured underneath."

"Oh indeed," said Morrigan with a smirk, "They have to guard their....virtue."

Alistair looked away, blushing. Eirwen frowned, dismissing the jibe, not fully understanding it's implication. "Those are the Knights of the Chantry that seek out apostates? Will Morrigan be safe here?"

It was Morrigan's turn to scowl, as she snorted at the implication that she could be in danger from the Templars. Eirwen turned, "Can they tell you are a mage?"

"Not if I don't draw on my magic," Morrigan told her. Morrigan could see Eirwen's uncertainty. "Alistair, can you feel my magic?" He shook his head.

"Why would Alistair be able to feel it?"

Alistair shuffled uncomfortably. Before he could reply Morrigan cut in, "Because he used to be a Templar."

Alistair shrugged, "Duncan recruited me before I took my final vows."

"I see," said Eirwen. _Is that the cause of the disharmony between them?_ "Well, if you are sure there is no danger let us go down." she nodded towards the village.

By the time they got to the bottom of the ramp Alistair and Morrigan were bickering again. Eirwen stopped, turning to watch them. They were paying enough attention to her to stop as well, but didn't desist from their argument immediately. Eirwen waited patiently, standing perfectly still, her face blank. It took several moments for them to stop. Alistair sputtered to a halt, looking shamefaced. "What?"

Morrigan looked at Eirwen "Is something the matter?"

Eirwen didn't reply immediately, just stood perfectly still watching them carefully. Alistair cleared his throat and shuffled uneasily. _She's got that __**look**__ again and if that's her being confused I'm an Orlesian Chevalier._

Eirwen lowered her head slightly, then spoke so quietly that they both had to lean forward to hear her. "A Dalish Clan is a small, close-knit community. Each member of the Clan depends on every other member. Co-operation is vital for the survival of the Clan. Whilst disputes do arise they are rare and dealt with in a reasoned fashion. It is harder for the children of the Clan. It takes time for them to learn to co-operate in such a way. Most of them learn this very young but sometimes two will clash and will continue to clash regardless of the discord they create around them. In such a case the Clan's Keeper will bind the children together, side by side, arm to arm, leg to leg, until they learn to co-operate."

Alistair looked horrified, "You wouldn't," he gasped.

"You couldn't," hissed Morrigan, aghast.

Eirwen looked Alistair in the eye and then Morrigan, her gaze steady. "I can; and if I hear any more discord from either of you, I swear by the Creator I will."

Alistair opened his mouth to speak but seeing her eyebrow shoot up thought better of it. Morrigan scowled at her but kept her thoughts to herself. When it was clear that neither had anything further to say Eirwen turned and headed into Lothering. At the sound of the deafening silence behind her she allowed herself a small smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Eirwen gratefully accepted the steaming bowl of rabbit stew Leliana offered her and settled herself down to eat.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Leliana merely smiled at her and returned to the pot over the fire, busying herself doling out food to the others. Eirwen sampled her stew, it was delicious. Around her, her companions fell quiet as they too started to eat. As she ate, Eirwen looked round discreetly at the others and shook her head in quiet amazement. When they had entered Lothering that morning they had numbered four, if she included Gelert, now they were eight. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened. She stifled a yawn, she felt exhausted. If she hadn't been famished, she'd probably have settled down to sleep straight away. As it was, by the time they had set up camp a delicious aroma was wafting from the cooking pot Leliana tended and Eirwen's stomach had growled loudly. She supposed it was the after-effects of the fever she'd suffered, it must have taken more out of than she realised. She'd felt permanently hungry ever since.

She scraped her spoon around her bowl, gathering up the last little scraps of food that clung to the sides. Seeing Alistair approach the cooking pot and refill his own bowl she jumped to her feet. He was a big man but she had been startled to see how much food he could put away. If she wasn't quick, he'd finish it all off on his own. "Leave some for me!" she cried more loudly than she had intended. He grinned at her as she scuttled over to the fire. He set his bowl down and took hers from her and ladled some stew into it. He held it out to her and she couldn't stop herself from peering into the cooking pot and noting that there was still some stew left in it. His lips twitched but he said nothing as he dipped the ladle back into the pot then filled her bowl almost to the brim. She shrugged as she took her bowl from him, "I think it's because of the fever I had," she told him.

He nodded, trying to keep his face straight, "Probably," he muttered. "I've got some bread here if you want something to mop it up with."

She felt her ears flush as her stomach growled at the thought of bread and set her face into an impassive mask. "Thank you, that would be nice."

She followed him to where he'd be sitting and they sat down. Alistair fished around behind him and produced a large loaf, tore it in half and passed it to Eirwen. The bread was dark and nutty and wonderful with the stew. They ate in silence. Eirwen used the last of her bread to clean the remnants of gravy from her bowl, and then set it down with a satisfied sigh.

"Now that's what I like to see," said Alistair with a grin.

Eirwen looked at him, saying nothing. He cleared his throat feeling slightly awkward. "It makes them easier to wash," he explained. He shrugged, "I'm a lousy cook but I know how to scour pots. Maker knows I've had plenty of experience." He nodded at her bowl and grinned, "Not that yours will need scouring, I don't think Gelert could have got it any cleaner."

Eirwen couldn't help smiling back at, although she felt embarrassed at how much she'd eaten; she'd had almost as much Alistair.

"So, tell me. Where did you learn to scour pots?" she asked, to cover her embarrassment.

Alistair frowned at the question. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I shouldn't have asked," said Eirwen, alarmed at the change in him.

He shook his head, "No, it's all right. I mean, it's no great secret or anything." He inhaled deeply, "Okay, short version. I'm a bastard. I was raised at Redcliffe by Arl Eamon and then sent to the Chantry when I was ten to train as a Templar. I hated being there and was always in trouble for something or other. The Revered Mother's favourite form of chastisement was to send me to the kitchen to scour the pots." He chuckled, trying to make light of it, "If I had a silver for every pot I've ever scoured I'd be a rich man."

He looked up at Eirwen, who was regarding him seriously. "What?" he asked, feeling himself blush _Maker's breath! Why do I feel like such a bumbling idiot when she looks at me with those big solemn eyes?_

Eirwen took a moment to speak, considering her words carefully. _I feel so stupid; there is so much I don't know. He makes a simple statement and I don't understand half of what he means._ "What is a bastard?" she asked him.

Alistair wasn't sure what he'd expected her to ask, but it wasn't that. A startled laugh broke from him, "You really don't know?!"

Eirwen frowned as she felt the tips of her ears flush with embarrassment, and she looked away.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you." Alistair shrugged awkwardly. "It was just the last thing I expected to have to explain."

She looked back at him, "I've heard the word before. It is a word that sh-humans use as an insult? I don't know what it means though."

"A bastard," he explained, "is a child born to a woman who isn't married."

She brightened to hear a term she _did_ recognise. "Marriage! I _have_ heard of that," she told him proudly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "You've _heard_ of it? Don't the Dalish marry?"

Eirwen shook her head, "When a Dalish man and a woman love each other and wish to lie with each other, then they make a bond between themselves," she told him matter-of-factly. "It's a private thing; there is no public ceremony like your marriage. The bond is similar to marriage though, in that it is permanent."

Alistair felt his face grow hot and looked down at the ground. _Andraste's flaming knickers! She's talking about...about...lying together! Maker save me, how did I get into this conversation?_

Eirwen looked at him curiously. _Why is he so embarrassed? Have I offended him somehow?_

"I'm sorry Alistair, I didn't mean to..."

"Eh? Oh, it doesn't matter," he mumbled

"I didn't realise that being a bastard was...shameful. I've made you uncomfortable with my questions."

"Oh no, really! I don't mind being a bastard at all, I've always been one, I'm used to it." He grinned at her.

She looked at him uncertainly. His words sounded genuine enough, leaving her confused about why he had seemed so embarrassed.

"The man who raised you, he is the same Arl you mentioned at Flemeth's hut?"

Alistair nodded, "My mother was one of his servants. She died when I was born and the Arl took me in. He's a good man. His wife though..." He sighed heavily. "There were always rumours that he'd taken me in because I was his son. I wasn't of course and she _knew_ that but she hated the gossip and resented me for it. When I was ten I was sent to the Chantry. I was stuck there until Duncan rescued me and conscripted me into the Grey Wardens. He was just in time; the Revered Mother was pestering me to take my finals vows and I'd put it off for just about as long as I could get away with."

"You have to take vows to be a Templar?"

"Oh yes, you have to swear to dedicate your life to the Chantry, keep their secrets," he coughed, "celibacy, stuff like that. What about you, you must have family?"

She frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry, now it's my turn to apologise for prying," said Alistair.

"No. It's not that. It's just...," she sighed. "Ashalle only told me about my parents when she knew that I was leaving the Clan. I haven't had much time to think about it."

"Ashalle?"

Eirwen smiled fondly, "Ashalle raised me. She isn't really my mother but she's the only mother I've ever known. Anyway, she told me that my mother was a hunter from another Clan and that my father was a Keeper. Apparently there was some opposition to their Bonding, I'm not sure why there would be though." She shrugged, and then continued. "Shortly before I was born my father was killed by Sh-bandits." Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper, "Ashalle said that my mother was heartbroken at my father's death. Not long after I was born she just walked into forest and disappeared. She..." Eirwen stopped and looked away abruptly, struggling to master the unexpected wave of hurt and anger that rose in her.

"I'm sorry," said Alistair softly. She turned to see his face full of sympathy. His eyes were so kind it almost hurt to look at him. She looked away again. "I don't even know what their names were. I have this though. Ashalle said it was my father's; that my mother kept it after he died." She fingered the necklace that Ashalle had given her.

Alistair leaned over and she felt his fingers brush against her collar bone as he lifted the necklace for a closer look. He realised that the necklace wasn't just plain beads but that each bead was a tiny carved animal. "It's beautiful," he murmured noticing the other pendant she wore, the one he had given her after the Joining. Feeling suddenly flustered at how close he was to her, he blushed and cleared his throat, backing off.

"I had an amulet of my mother's when I was a child. It wasn't anything much, it had the emblem of Andraste's Flame on it," he told her, trying to cover the discomfort he was feeling. "It was the only thing I had of her."

"What happened to it?"

Alistair sighed heavily, "I broke it. When Arl Eamon told me that he was sending me to the Chantry I threw it at the wall in a fit of temper and it smashed. A stupid, stupid thing to do."

"You were just a child Alistair."

He looked at her unhappily and shrugged, unconvinced. They sat for a moment looking at each other, both unsure of what to say. Abruptly Alistair rose and gathered up their bowls. "You look exhausted, you should get some sleep," and with that he strode off.

* * *

Eirwen groaned with frustration and rolled onto her back. Alistair had been right, she did feel exhausted. She had crawled gratefully into her tent wanting nothing more than a good night's sleep, however her thoughts had swirled around in her head though and she had tossed and turned for what felt like hours before she had finally drifted off into sleep. She had hoped that being so tired would keep the nightmares away but it hadn't. Her dreams had been filled with Darkspawn and she had heard the Archdemon calling to her. Now she was awake again and felt tired and irritable, struggling to make sense of the day.

She had found Lothering overwhelming. She didn't ever recall having felt so ill at ease before. Not only had she been uncomfortable about being around so many humans, she had been terrified that Morrigan would somehow give herself away and bring down the wrath of the Templars on their heads. As it had turned out, the Templars hadn't been a problem at all. The attack, when it came, had come from another direction entirely.

Initially they had split up. Alistair was going to visit the merchant to pick up supplies and sell the items they had taken from the bandits. Neither she or Morrigan had any much, if any, experience of handling money so it made sense to for him to do it. He'd also volunteered to go into the Chantry to see if he could find out any news. She had quickly agreed; Morrigan wanted nothing to do with the place and she herself had never set foot in one and would have felt distinctly out of place. On the other hand, he was quite comfortable about the idea and was a lot less likely to arouse suspicion. She and Morrigan had decided to have a look around the village to see if they could pick up any gossip and they had agreed to meet Alistair at the Inn. The two women had wondered about, appearing to chat to one another, discreetly listening to the conversations going on around them. Eirwen had disapproved of the way the Shems seemed to have nothing better to do than stand around gossiping but it _had_ been useful.

Eirwen and Morrigan had ended up loitering in front of the Inn where two men were having a particularly interesting conversation about recent events when she had seen Alistair heading towards them, his face like thunder. She had abandoned Morrigan and gone to meet him. Spluttering with fury he had told her the lie that Loghain was putting about, that the Grey Wardens had betrayed the King. Anxiously she had tried to calm him down and eventually he saw reason when she pointed out to him how important it was that they didn't draw attention to themselves.

She had beckoned Morrigan over and quietly they had pooled their information. Not only had Loghain branded the Wardens as traitors, he had declared himself Regent. Alistair had met a Knight he knew in the Chantry who had told him that Arl Eamon was sick; the Knight was on a quest for some kind of holy relic that he hoped would cure the Arl. Morrigan had overheard the men in front of the Inn mention some kind of trouble at the Circle of Magi but she didn't know the details as Eirwen had called her over at that point. Alistair mentioned that the Chantry had several jobs posted on their board and suggested they try and earn some money. Eirwen had agreed with him, but they decided to head into the Inn for some food first. That was when the trouble started.

They had barely set foot in the door when they had been challenged by a group of soldiers who turned out to be Loghain's men. Eirwen didn't know how it was known that she and Alistair had survived Ostagar but not only did the men know they had survived, it turned out that they had descriptions of them and instructions to arrest them. Eirwen had drawn her weapons, praying to the Creator that Morrigan had the sense to stay out of it. She had been startled when a Chantry Sister had tried to intervene. Not only had the men scoffed at the Sister and refused to back down, shockingly, they had threatened to kill the woman. Eirwen still didn't know what to make of that, she had supposed that the Chantry was all-powerful and was still confused about it. The fight was over almost before it had begun. Loghain's men might have out-numbered them but they lacked skill and were ill-disciplined. The Sister had drawn a wicked looking dagger and waded in alongside Alistair and Eirwen. The soldiers had yielded quickly and backed off. Alistair had singled out their leader and snarled at him to tell Loghain that the Wardens knew what had really happened at Ostagar and that they would make him pay.

Eirwen still had misgivings about what had happened after that. The Sister had introduced herself as Leliana and had asked to join them, stating she wanted to fight the Blight. Bizarrely she claimed that the Maker had told her join them. Whilst Eirwen was forced to admit the woman could handle a dagger with skill, she didn't trust her one bit. She was a Shem and she was Chantry. For all Eirwen knew she could be some sort of spy. Leliana wouldn't take no for an answer though. As they had left Lothering she had been waiting for them and again, asked to join them. Eirwen had been taken aback when Alistair had argued for allowing the Sister to join them. Deciding that Alistair's judgement was probably more sure than her own, when it came to Shem anyway, she had grudgingly agreed. She had also felt a little guilty about having invited the Qunari to join them when Alistair plainly didn't feel comfortable about having him along.

It was odd she mused. Sten had admitted quite openly that he was a mass murder yet she felt more comfortable about having him along that Leliana. His remorse rang true and she believed he genuinely wanted to atone for his crime. She snorted back a laugh as she remembered Alistair's face when she had pulled out the little wire she kept hidden under the shoulder of her armour and picked the lock on the cage, which thankfully had been right on the edge of the village. It would have been a lot harder to set him free if the cage had been further in, someone would have been sure to notice. As they were already on their way out of Lothering, she had just set him free and they'd all kept walking. Alistair had still been glaring at her when Leliana had caught up with them.

Leaving Lothering peacefully had been as impossible as entering it had been. They'd made their way up onto the far end of the Viaduct and run straight into a small band of Darkspawn attacking a Dwarven merchant and his son. The Dwarf had been almost embarrassingly grateful and had asked if he might travel with them for the time being. It had seemed stupid to refuse, the Dwarf, Bodahn, had plenty of supplies, not to mention a wagon he suggested they stow their gear in. Eirwen grinned; whilst Alistair had done a good job in Lothering of getting supplies it obviously hadn't occurred to him that Eirwen only possessed the clothes she stood up in. She'd had a quiet word with Bodahn as they set up camp and he had kindly given her a shift and some spare small clothes. He had adamantly refused to take anything for them when she had asked how much they would cost, insisting she take them as a reward for rescuing him and his son from the Darkspawn. Eirwen felt it would be churlish to tell him that they would have killed the Darkspawn anyway.

Eirwen stirred restlessly, the tent felt hot and stuffy. She threw off her blanket and shuffled forward, undoing the flaps to let some air in. She knelt there for a moment, enjoying the fresh air, a light breeze blowing over her. She could see Sten patrolling the edge of the camp. She had suggested taking watches earlier only to be assured by Morrigan that the wards she could place around the camp would ensure no-one could creep up on them. Sten was obviously reluctant to trust the mage. Alistair was sitting by the fire, one leg stretched out, the other drawn up. His arms were crossed on top of his knee and he rested his chin on them as he stared into the flames, lost in thought. _He looks so sad._ On an impulse, Eirwen got to her feet and walked over to him. She shivered slightly, the night air cooler than she had realised.

Alistair jumped as she tapped him on the shoulder; he looked up at her with wide, startled eyes. _Maker's breath! How did she creep up on me like that?!_ _Oh my, what is she wearing? I can see her...Don't even think it Alistair!_ He blushed deeply as he looked up at her. She stood, shivering slightly, in a thin white shift. Although it fell below her knees and looked too big for her, the fabric was sheer and clung to her. Her arms were crossed beneath her small breasts as she rubbed her arms to warm them. The action seemed to push her breasts forward slightly and he could see her nipples pressing against the thin fabric.

"C-can't sleep?" he asked her, tearing his eyes away and looking back to the fire.

"No," she sighed. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Er no, not at all." He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the flames and tried not to flinch as she sat down next to him. "Um...wouldn't you be warmer with a blanket or something?"

"I'm alright, it's nice and warm here by the fire. You seem to be keeping warm enough." He could hear the smile in her voice. He looked down at the undershirt and breeches he wore and found himself wishing he had his armour on.

She hesitated, then asked, "Would it help you talk? About Duncan I mean? And the others?"

He turned his head to look at her. She looked tiny at the side of him, frail almost, although he knew that she was anything but. She was looking up at him, her eyes full of the sympathy he had seen before. _She has such beautiful eyes._ He nodded, turned back to stare into the dancing flames and took a deep breath then started to talk. Once he started talking, he couldn't seem to stop. He talked about the Grey Wardens, he talked about Duncan. The words poured out of him. He found himself reminiscing about some drinking game they'd had and chuckled at the memory. He looked at her, not sure if he was boring her but she was smiling at him, seemingly enjoying the story, listening intently. Then suddenly he found himself back at Duncan again and something almost broke inside him. He stopped talking abruptly, desperate not to cry in front of her. He turned his gaze back to the fire and was startled to feel her squeeze his arm gently. Briefly he covered her hand with his own then rubbed his face, trying to regain his self-control.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion, "Have you lost anyone close to you?"

Not hearing a reply he turned to her and was shocked at the pain in her face.

"It was recent?" he asked.

"Just before I left with Duncan." Her words were so soft he had to strain to hear them.

"Please, don't feel you have to tell me if you'd rather not talk about it."

"No, I haven't....I think I should." Now it was her turn to gaze into the flames. Softly she told him about Tamlen, how they had explored the ruins and found the mirror. That Duncan had found her and taken her back to her Clan but how there had been no sign of Tamlen at all.

"You were close?"

Eirwen nodded, "Very. We grew up together. He was always the one with mad ideas and I trailed after him trying to keep him out of trouble," she smiled sadly, "not always successfully. I had thought that one day we might..." Her voice shook. "When Duncan and I got to Ostagar I...that's when I realised he couldn't have...that he must be..." She stopped, unable to say the words. She trembled violently as she struggled to hold her tears back.

Not knowing what to say, Alistair leaned towards her and put his arm awkwardly around her thin shoulders driven by the need to try and comfort her somehow. Unable to hold her sorrow in any longer, Eirwen leaned into his shoulder and sobbed. Instinctively he folded her up in his arms and let her cry, while over her head Alistair cried his own quiet tears.

Gradually Eirwen's tears slowed. "I miss him so much, I feel so...so lost."

Alistair rested his cheek against the top of her head, "I know," he murmured. He went on, "I can't help wishing I had been with Duncan. I keep telling myself that I should be glad to have survived...and in a way I am, it's just that..." he stopped, struggling to articulate how he felt.

He felt her head nodding, "It feels like such a failure," she finished for him.

"Yes, yes it does." he whispered hoarsely.

He felt Eirwen stir and let his arms drop. She sat up, wiping her eyes and face with her hands. She sniffed loudly, and then looked at his shirt guiltily. "I'm sorry. I've made your shirt all wet."

He smiled wryly, "It'll dry." Alistair shifted slightly and rummaged in the pocket of his breeches pulling out a handkerchief which he held out to her. "Here. It's crumpled but it _is_ clean."

Eirwen grinned weakly and took the handkerchief, turning away slightly to wipe her eyes, then blew her nose. Turning back to him she started to hand it back then stopped, "Oh, I don't suppose you want it back now?

Alistair chuckled and held his hands up, "Er...no. You keep it."

Eirwen blushed slightly, "Thank you. And thank you for..." She gestured towards his shirt.

"Letting you wet my shirt?"

She grinned up at him, "Yeah, something like that."

"You can wet my shirt any time you need to My Lady," Alistair told her, his voice husky.

At the emotion in his voice, Eirwen went still and searched his face steadily, trying to identify it. She frowned slightly, "I am an Elf, not a Lady," she told him sharply, her feelings confused.

Alistair flushed and stood up. "It's going to be light in an hour or two. We should get some sleep." Before he could extend his hand to help her up, she was on her feet. She nodded at him but wouldn't meet his eye. Turning she returned to her tent, slipped inside and drew the flap closed.

Alistair watched her go, then, heaving a large sigh, crawled into his own tent and pulled his blanket over him. His eyes started to close almost straight away, although stray thoughts tumbled around in his head.

_Nice one Alistair. A pretty girl finally falls into your arms and it's because she's crying for another man. Andraste's flaming kni...._


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair yawned and stretched, reluctant to leave the haven of his tent. He hadn't expected to fall asleep so quickly when he'd returned to his tent and he wanted a few moments to ponder last night. Frankly, he was amazed that his fellow Warden had broken down so completely but also he felt touched that she had; it felt like a compliment somehow. She usually seemed so composed, so self-contained; it was the last thing he had expected, especially as her intention had obviously been to try and console him. That had also been unexpected. When he had held her last night he had been motivated solely by the desire to comfort her. Cradling her in his arms had been such an instinctive action; he hadn't felt embarrassed at all. In the cold light of day he flushed at the memory as he felt himself stir. At the time he hadn't been thinking of her in _that_ way, but now he reflected on how small and warm she'd felt huddled against his chest. Her small size and her tears had made her seem frail, in need of protection. At the same time he'd had been aware how hard her body was, the wiry strength in her. In his fantasies, women were _soft_ but there was nothing soft about Eirwen. He remembered how she had looked standing before him, shivering in her shift, arms folded across her body, her nipples outlined against the thin fabric.

He stifled a groan. Unthinkingly he moved his hand under the blanket and tugged at his breeches, which were only loosely laced. He slipped his fingers inside his smallclothes and started to stroke himself. Idly he compared Eirwen to _her_, his fantasy woman, his dream lover. His dream-lover had raven-black hair that fell in soft waves to the middle of her back; Eirwen had, well, virtually no hair. What little she had was a dark auburn, almost chestnut in colour as far as he could tell. _She_ had eyes as blue as the sky on a sunny day; they were warm and _inviting_. Eirwen's eyes changed, depending on the light he'd noticed. They were a blue-grey, the colour of flint, stormy skies, dark seas. Eirwen's eyes were rarely soft; usually they were distant, appraising. Not a window to her soul at all more a wall that kept the world out. _She_ had a pert little nose; Eirwen's nose was larger, it had a bump at the ridge as if she had maybe broken it at some time. _She_ had a rosebud mouth, soft pink lips that smiled prettily at him. Eirwen's mouth was wide, almost too wide for her narrow face. Her lips were full though, he thought with a shiver as his hand started to move faster. He had rarely seen her smile in the short time he'd known her, but when she did it transformed her. _She_ had skin that was all peaches and cream, rounded cheeks that dimpled when she smiled at him. Eirwen's skin was pale, the tattoo on her forehead and nose stood out in stark contrast, her cheeks sunken and her cheekbones hard. Her face was all sharp angles, nothing soft about it at all. His dream lover had a soft, plump body. He gasped softly as he imagined how it might feel underneath him; warm and _yielding_. He remembered how Eirwen's body had felt; muscular and firm. Her shoulders were thin and bony. _She_ had large, full breasts that he imagined would overflow his large hands. He conjured up the image of Eirwen shivering in her shift, her breasts were small but the memory of her nipples, hard against the fabric made his breath catch in his throat. His breath coming in ragged gasps, Alistair's hand moved faster and faster. He wondered what those small ,hard nipples would feel like in his mouth and whimpered in his throat as he came, hot stickiness spurting into his hand.

Digging in his pocket with his free hand Alistair was overcome with shame. He might never have taken his vows but old attitudes died hard. Remembering that he'd given his handkerchief, his _only_ handkerchief, to Eirwen he cursed softly. He squirmed out of his blankets and pulled his pack over, rummaging one-handed in it for the clean smallclothes he knew were in there somewhere. Finally he found them and pulled them out. He wiped his sticky hand on the ones he was wearing then quickly stripped off his breeches and changed his small clothes. With a grunt of disgust he rolled up the spoiled ones and stuffed them as deep into his pack as he could. He started to pack up his bedroll and blanket, lost in thought. _I shouldn't think of her like that, it's disrespectful…that shift, every time I think about it…she wouldn't look twice at me, she's Dalish and I'm a __**Shem**__...she's so much smaller than me, would it even be possible to…she __**is**__ attractive, those eyes, that mouth, those nipples…_ He shuddered and almost groaned again _Maker's breath, stop it! She's a fellow-Warden_…I_'ll be spending the next few months in her company, I can't afford to think like this_…_maybe I'll get to see her in her shift again…_ Alistair froze as he heard Leliana call out, "Good morning Eirwen. Did you sleep well?" Eirwen's reply was indistinct. Alistair felt his face flush, the heat spreading, as he remembered how he'd been thinking about her. _Andraste's knickers! I can't go out there, she'll take one look at me and __**know**__._ He struggled to compose himself. _I can't hide in here all day. _ He sat for a few minutes, using the meditative techniques taught by the Templars to calm himself. Eventually he took a deep breath and stuck his head out of his tent just to see Eirwen heading over to Morrigan's fire.

* * *

Eirwen pulled the blanket up over her head, she didn't want to wake up. It had only been a couple of hours since she had returned to her tent but she'd slept soundly. She didn't know exactly what had disturbed her but she felt quite cross, she'd been having such a nice dream. It was the first one she could remember having since she'd left her Clan with Duncan. She could hear the others moving around outside and knew she should get up. She snuggled down under her blankets, five more minutes wouldn't hurt. She couldn't ignore the tug of reluctance she felt at having to face Alistair. She drowsed, half asleep and let her mind wander. _He must think I'm a weak, blubbering __**girl**__, how could I have fallen apart on him like that?... I hate people to see me cry, it seems so feeble…he cried too, I know he did, I felt his tears…he didn't bawl like a baby…I feel so exposed, so vulnerable when I cry…I didn't feel like that when he held me, I felt safe…he is so big, he felt so solid last night, yet he held me so gently…he is very handsome, there's something about him that makes me think of sunshine._ With a snort, Eirwen threw off the blanket and started to get into her armour. _What am I thinking of?! He is a __**Shem**__…he is a good man I think, he has kindness in him…he is still a Shem, just because he is kind, that is no reason to start thinking about how __**handsome**__ he is…he has lovely eyes, so warm, so expressive…he is a Shem…he is not like I expected Shem to be…he seems so open and honest…he is a Shem….he….stop it!...he is a Shem…he is a Shem…he is a Shem…he is a __**Shem**__!_

Furious at herself, Eirwen grabbed her shift and stuffed it in her pack then busied herself packing up her bedding. _I won't hide in here like a silly child…he is a Shem …if he makes one crack about last night I'll stab him…he is a Shem…I'm __**not**__ afraid to face him after__** wetting his shirt**__…he is a Shem…he is a Shem…he is a Shem…he is a Shem!_ Gathering her courage, Eirwen more or less shot out of her tent like an arrow fired from a bow. A quick look around revealed no sign of Alistair and she shouldn't help a sigh of a relief. By the fire Leliana was dishing up porridge. She looked up and Eirwen and smiled, "Good morning Eirwen. Did you sleep well?" Standing, Leliana held out a bowl to the Elf. Eirwen took it from her, shrugging, "Not bad." She wondered if it would be rude to disappear back into her tent to eat her breakfast, she could hear movement in Alistair's tent. Stooping past Leliana she grabbed another bowl of the steaming porridge, "I'll take this over to Morrigan," and with that she scurried off.

Behind her, Alistair emerged from his tent. Leliana turned and flashed him a smile, Good morning Alistair. Did you sleep well?" Alistair shrugged, "Not bad," he grunted at her.

"That's funny, that exactly what Eirwen said," Leliana told him, passing him a bowl of porridge.

"Grey Warden thing," he told her, warily watching Eirwen. He relaxed a bit when he saw her sit down at Morrigan's small fire. He didn't trust the witch one little bit and wandered what they could be talking about. He wasn't unhappy however at the distance between him and Eirwen, he still felt flustered. Relaxing he turned his attention to his porridge and tucked in heartily, only half-listening to Leliana as she chatted away. He was just pondering whether a third bowl would appear greedy when Eirwen materialised at the side of him. Managing not jump a foot in the air, he contented himself with blushing furiously. "Thank you for cooking breakfast Leliana," he heard her say. "I hope you don't feel as if you have to do all the cooking though."

Leliana laughed, "It's alright, I didn't mind. I'm always up early."

"So am I usually," he could hear the small smile in her voice. "Tell you what, as you cooked, I'll wash up."

Alistair was momentarily heartbroken to see his empty bowl vanish. He got to his feet, and finally dared to look at Eirwen. She turned her cool gaze on him briefly, then busied herself gathering up the rest of the bowls that Sten and the Dwarves had used. "Good morning Alistair," she said stiffly.

He flushed deeply, unsure where to look. "I thought I was the pot expert around here?", he joked. Not daring to look her in the eye he stared at the top of her head. Leliana, sensing the sudden tension made herself scarce and wandered over to where the Dwarves were, hitching their small pony to their wagon. Eirwen shrugged and busied herself heating some water over the fire. Feeling a little bewildered, Alistair watched her. He had the feeling something was going on behind that passive face but couldn't work out what it was. After his thoughts of earlier, Alistair found himself looking at her with new eyes. She seemed determined to ignore him which allowed him to study her. She worked quickly and efficiently. _She has very pretty ears._ She looked up at him suddenly and caught him staring at her. As he felt himself blush he noticed the tips of her ears turn pink.

"I'll start taking the tents down, is your stuff all packed away?" he blustered. She merely nodded at him and returned to her task. Alistair ducked into her tent and pulled out her pack, weapons and bedroll then started to dismantle the tent, watching her surreptitiously. _Her ears went pink…I never noticed that before…I wonder…_ All of a sudden it hit him. She was embarrassed. In the short time he'd known her he realised that he'd rarely seen her betray any kind of emotion or at least, nothing more than a very brief flash that was over almost as soon as it had begun. Last night had been different, she'd talked about someone she'd loved, someone she'd lost, then sobbed her heart out in his arms. He realised that she didn't like to display her feelings. _Is that because she's Dalish, because she's Eirwen or because we're all Shems? She's proud, I remember Duncan mentioning it._

On an impulse he abandoned the tent and went over to her, crouching down beside her. Blushing he cleared his throat, "Er..I-I'd like to thank you." Eirwen stiffened, then looked at him steadily. "F-for last night." Still she said nothing. Alistair ran his hand through his hair. "I needed to talk, I didn't know how much until I started. Thank you for listening. I felt much better afterwards."

A small frown appeared on her face, then she nodded, "You're welcome. I also needed to talk." Alistair noted the pink flush at the tips of her ears as she went on, "Your…um…handkerchief. I'll wash it as soon as I can and return it."

"Oh, don't worry about it, keep it. I can get another one."

Her frown deepened, "Thank you."

Not knowing what else to say, he rose and went back to taking the tents down. As he worked he watched her and saw that she appeared to have relaxed and heaved a small sigh of relief. In no time at all, everything was packed away and ready to be loaded into Bodahn's wagon.

Alistair strapped himself into his armour and gathered up his weapons. As he did so, Eirwen wandered over to him. "So, we need to decide where to go, what little piece to attack next."

He groaned, "Ah yes, the next piece in our massive task. We're not too far from the Brecilian Forest. Do you want to head there and see if we can track down the Dalish?"

She stiffened and shook her head. "Too soon?" he asked her sympathetically. She looked away briefly, refusing to catch his eye, and nodded. "You decide then. I hate deciding stuff like this."

She looked back at him, frowning, "But you're the senior Warden," she protested.

He snorted, "Yeah, by a whole six months. I spent most of my life in the next best thing to a cloister. As sheltered lives go, they don't get much more sheltered than that. On the other hand you have just so much more experience of life than I." He held up his hand as she started to protest, "I know, it was a different kind of life, but trust me, you're far better equipped to lead this mottley band than I am. The hardest decision I'm used to making is whether I can get away with wearing yesterday's socks again today."

She smiled slightly, "There is so much I don't know Alistair. So much I don't understand about this Shem world you live in. What if I make a really stupid decision because of something I don't know? Something that you wouldn't think twice about?"

He smiled, "Given that two of the treaties are with the Dwarves and the Dalish, I don't think it's that big an issue. Anyway, you know you can ask me anything right? I promise, I won't laugh or think you're stupid. If I think you're about to make a truly awful decision because you've missed something I'll give you a subtle signal, I'll …er…stand on my head or something."

Eirwen grinned, "Alright then."

"So, where are we heading to first?"

"The Circle of Magi."

Alistair nodded, "Fair enough, let's get everything loaded up and make a move. It'll take us several days to get there." He grinned at her, "I can give you Shem lessons along the way."

Eirwen sniggered, then looked past him. "Um…I don't think so fastened your pack properly."

He whirled around to see Gelert with his head deep in Alistair's pack. "Hey!" he shouted and started to run over to try and rescue his pack. At his shout Gelert withdrew his head, something obviously in his mouth and gambolled off. "Hey, give that back!" yelled Alistair, running after the dog. Gelert obviously considered it a great game and bounced around, letting Alistair draw near several times before bounding out of reach. After a few minutes Eirwen took pity on Alistair. He was getting quite out of breath and obviously not finding it as funny as the others. She called Gelert over. He trotted obediently to her and, as she held her hand, delivered a crumpled, slightly crusty, pair of Alistair's smallclothes. She looked at them curiously and then realised what they were. As he drew near Alistair was taken aback to see her blush, a proper blush. Then she held out his smallclothes to him and he stood there mortified, praying to the maker for a big bolt of lightning. His face crimson, he took them from her and stuffed them inside his armour. He closed his eyes and prayed harder as he heard Leliana and Morrigan both scream with laughter. He could only hope that his smallclothes were covered with enough Mabari slobber to ensure Eirwen hadn't paid them close attention. He felt a touch on his arm and heard Eirwen, obviously struggling not to laugh, say softly, "We're moving out now Alistair, catch us up when you're ready." He contented himself with nodding, his eyes still tightly shut.


	10. Chapter 10

The party moved steadily up the road. Alistair and Eirwen took the lead, Morrigan and Leliana followed behind with Sten bringing up the rear. Gelert kept running ahead, then running back to the group. They had already been travelling for two days and Alistair told Eirwen that they should arrive at the tower that housed the Circle of Magi late the following day. They were following the old road that ran along the side of Lake Calenhad. Although old, the road was reasonably well-maintained and in good condition, all things considered. They had made swifter progress than expected and Bodahn and his son had gone on ahead of them. The Dwarf was going to look for a likely campsite and set up the camp ready for when they caught up with them. Eirwen reckoned he was probably about two hours ahead of them. She looked up at the sky, estimating that they probably had about 3 hours of daylight left. With any luck Bodahn would have found somewhere suitable and be setting up their tents right about now. Their journey had been surprisingly uneventful. They had met the odd traveller but other than that the road had been quiet.

The afternoon was mild and sunny. Eirwen cast a sympathetic glance at Alistair. He was in full armour and looked mildly uncomfortable. His face was slightly flushed and his head was beaded with sweat, darkening his hair. He fumbled for his water bottle, shaking it slightly then groaned. As he turned towards her she reached for her own bottle and held it out for him.

He smiled gratefully, "Thanks." He stopped and raised the bottle to his mouth, gulping the water down. She stood, watching his throat move as he swallowed. She felt a little a little jolt run through her and suppressed a shiver. Turning she started walking again. Momentarily, Alistair caught her up and held the bottle out to her.

"Keep it," she said with a wave of her hand. He grinned at her and fastened it to his belt.

"Andraste's flaming sword, I'm hot!" he groaned raising a hand to wipe away the sweat that was threatening to drip into his eyes.

"Hopefully Bodahn has found somewhere to set up camp by now," she told him. "We should catch up with him within the next couple of hours."

"Thank the Maker for that!" he gasped fervently.

She looked up at him grinning. "You should get some Dalish armour." She felt slightly flustered as his gaze swept over her, a sudden intensity in his eyes. Alistair caught the flush at the tips of her ears and realised he was staring. He blushed furiously.

"I don't think I've got the figure for it. It wouldn't fit me anyhow," he quipped. _Well done, now she'll think you're a lecher._

Despite her discomfort, a mental image of Alistair in her armour flashed into Eirwen's head and a snort of laughter escaped her. Alistair grinned, both relieved and pleased that he had made her laugh. _Well, she nearly laughed, that's a start._

Eirwen frowned at herself, irritated at the lapse. "Tell me more about the Circle of Magi," she asked.

"What do you want to know?"

Eirwen shrugged, "Everything. I know so little"

Alistair groaned and ran his hand through his damp hair. "Well, you remember what I told you the other day?"

She nodded, "The Chantry views magic as dangerous, and it has Templars that guard the mages."

"That about sums it up. Virtually all mages live at the Circle Tower on Lake Calenhad. Its proper name is Kinloch Hold, although hardly anybody calls it that. When a child is identified as having magical ability, the Templars take it to the Tower to be trained. Most mages spend their whole lives there. At the Tower they're guarded by the Templars."

"They never leave the Tower?"

"Some do occasionally. There were mages as Ostagar," he paused, his voice catching, then recovered and continued, "Some mages also find service with Nobles and the Court." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction, but her face was calm and impassive, as it usually was. He shrugged, "That's about it really. Mages and Templars all locked up together in the Tower. One big happy family."

She looked up at him, frowning, "But what about their families?"

Alistair looked puzzled, "Whose families? The mages'? Like I said, mages are taken from their families when they are children. To be honest, most people view magic with such suspicion they're happy to see the back of them." He heard her gasp in shock. "It's not nice, I agree, but it's the way things are."

Eirwen shook her head, trying to take in what he'd told her. "I've never heard anything so terrible!" She frowned and shook her head, "However that isn't what I meant. I mean the mages and the Templars in the Tower. Do they not have children of their own?"

Alistair blushed furiously as he grasped her meaning, "You mean with each other?" he exclaimed, his eye brows shooting up. He scowled as he heard Morrigan hoot with derisive laughter behind him.

"Please explain Alistair, I'm sure 'twill be most enlightening," she purred.

Alistair flinched at the sound of her voice and saw Eirwen looking back at Morrigan in confusion. Eirwen looked back to Alistair waiting for his reply. _Andraste's flaming sword, how do I explain this?!_ Feeling the colour rise in his face, Alistair cleared his throat. "Ah-hem, they don't," he told her tersely. Eirwen said nothing, just walked along beside him, looking up at him, clearly waiting for further explanation. Alistair picked up his pace, trying to pull ahead of Morrigan and Leliana. He really didn't want to continue this conversation but if he really had to, he preferred to do it out of their hearing; or Morrigan's hearing if he were to be honest. Baffled, Eirwen kept up with him, almost having to run to keep up with his long stride.

"Mages do have relationships with each other but they're not encouraged. It's rare that they have children but when it does happen the child is taken from the mother and given to the Chantry to raise."

He stole a glance down at her, but apart from a slight stiffening of her shoulders, he could see no other reaction. "Templars take vows of celibacy, amongst other things, so of course they don't have any children at all." He paused, then asked hopefully, "You understand?"

He heard her snort, "I understand the word however I don't understand why anyone would take such a vow, or why it would be considered necessary."

Alistair shrugged, "I didn't make the rules."

"Why make such a pointless vow? One should not make promises one cannot keep." Eirwen couldn't keep the scorn she felt out of her voice. "Taking a vow of celibacy is like vowing never to eat again."

"Well, it's not quite the same," retorted Alistair defensively. "I mean, you'd die if you stopped eating, no-one's going to die from not…you know." He faltered blushing.

Eirwen raised an eyebrow at him, "Well people would die out if everyone took vows of celibacy and actually kept them wouldn't they? Sex," she told him matter-of-factly "is like eating, a basic, natural function of living. Not as immediately essential as eating, I grant, but essential all the same."

Alistair raised his hands, "Look, I'm not arguing with you. You asked and I answered your question. Take it up with the Grand Cleric not me." He fumbled with the water bottle Eirwen had given him and drank deeply. He was tempted to just pour the water over his head, he felt as if his face was going to burst into flames.

"Why would anyone take such a vow?" Eirwen demanded. "It would be like to condemning yourself to be hungry for the rest of your life?"

Alistair avoided looking at her, deciding to treat the question as rhetorical. The silence stretched between them. He couldn't resist a sidelong glance and could see her looking up at him, clearly waiting for an answer. _Nope, I'm not biting. I am immune to the __**look**__ today. I'd even rather face the eyebrow than continue this conversation._ He swallowed nervously as he saw her lips twitch into a little smile.

"So tell me Alistair," she said innocently, "If you were raised by the Chantry to be a Templar, does that mean you've never…?

For a second, Alistair truly thought it heart was going to stop. In fact he half-hoped that it would. "Never…? Never what…? Had a good pair of shoes?"

"You know what I mean," retorted Eirwen, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I'm not sure I do," Alistair replied, deciding to play dumb. "Have I ever seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

"Sex," Eirwen asked him bluntly.

"Oh so that's what we're talking about. I admit I've never had a woman come out and just ask me like this, that's for sure. I myself never had the pleasure. Not that I haven't thought about it of course, but, you know…" Alistair shrugged, slightly shocked at her directness.

"You've never had the opportunity?" suggested Eirwen.

"Well living in the Chantry is not exactly a life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That's not so bad, is it?"

"You think I'm beautiful?" Eirwen asked, her eyes suddenly wary.

"Of course you are and you know it. You're ravishing and resourceful and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying." Said Alistair with a laugh.

Eirwen's face went still, all traces of humour gone from her eyes. "Now you're mocking me again Shem!" she hissed at him. Her body rigid, she stalked off, leaving him standing in the road, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide with surprise.

_Maker! What did I say?! _Alistair felt like he'd run into a stone wall. Morrigan and Leliana drew level with him, eying him curiously. Morrigan opened her mouth to speak and Alistair hurried ahead not wanting to hear what she had intended to say. He watched Eirwen striding along the road, her body stiff with anger. _What did she say? She said I was mocking her… She accused me of that before…at Ostagar, when I asked her was she a mage…does she really think I was saying she isn't at all beautiful?_ Alistair groaned and ran his hand through his hair. His pace had slowed and he realised that Leliana and Morrigan had almost caught up with him. He decided to try and catch up with Eirwen and try and resolve the misunderstanding. As he had just about caught her up she half-turned her head and muttered over her shoulder, "I'm going to see if I can catch some rabbits, I'll catch you all up at camp." Not giving him the chance to say anything she left the road and jogged towards the trees. Alistair saw her pause briefly, putting her fingers in her mouth to whistle sharply for Gelert, then both dog and elf vanished into the trees.

It took another hour for the party to reach the camp that Bodahn and Sandal had set up. There had been no sign of Eirwen at all. Alistair had made sure he stayed ahead of the two women. He really didn't want to talk about it what had happened. Or at least, not to Morrigan. He wondered if he should try talking to Leliana later. He was quite baffled by Eirwen's reaction. His words may have been light-hearted, mostly to cover his embarrassment at the subject of their conversation, but his compliment had been genuinely meant. He conceded that Eirwen wasn't a beauty in the classical sense, but she was a good-looking woman, why would she be so offended with him for pointing it out? How could she seriously think he was mocking her? He also felt a little aggrieved. Eirwen had relaxed enough to tease him gently about his Chantry upbringing and his lack of experience with women, yet when he retaliated with a little flirtatious teasing of his own she'd suddenly lost her sense of humour. He was relieved to see Bodahn and Sandal slightly off the road, all their tents already set up.

The camp site was down an incline, almost at the lakeside. There was a flat area of ground where Bodahn had set up the tents, then a small stand of trees, then the lake. In spite of the trees there was a cool breeze blowing off the lake. Alistair couldn't wait to get his armour off. He was fumbling with buckles as he picked out a tent and headed towards it. Ducking inside he gratefully shed his armour, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. His shirt and breeches were wringing with sweat and clung to him. He left the tent and headed over to Bodahn's wagon to dig out his pack. As he got there he could hear Leliana exclaiming loudly and turned to look. He saw that Eirwen had appeared. He didn't know what she'd managed to get for their supper but Leliana was obviously thrilled with it. He turned back to the wagon and retrieved his pack. He dug about for a minute retrieving a sliver of soap, a cloth and small towel and a fresh shirt. He also picked up the large lidded pail they used for carrying water in. By the time he got back to the tents both Eirwen and Morrigan had disappeared.

"Was it something I said?" asked Alistair grumpily.

Leliana smiled at him, "Don't be silly. Morrigan's gone to set wards around the camp, Sten is in his tent and Eirwen's gone looking for greens and herbs. Look at what she brought!" Leliana pointed and Alistair saw three wild boar piglets. At the sight of them his mouth started to water and his stomach growled loudly.

"Has that improved your mood?" Leliana asked, grinning at him. Alistair just shrugged sheepishly. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "Maybe later? I'm going down to the lake. I really need a wash. I'll fill the pail while I'm there."

"OK. Take you time, there's no rush for water, it's not like I need it for cooking," she told him.

Alistair headed down to the water's edge and stripped off his shirt. At the water's edge he splashed water over his head and chest, groaning with pleasure as the cold water sluiced over him. He looked about him, toying with the idea of stripping off completely and going for a swim. It was certainly a nice spot. From their camp site the ground sloped gently down to the water but a little way ahead he could see the land rise steeply. He could make out a small waterfall running into the lake. _That might be a better place for a swim…I won't have to wade out there…it's a little way from the camp and it's less likely that one of the women is going to come up on me unexpectedly._ He filled the water pail and left it where he'd washed and made his way around the lake, shirt, towel and washcloth in hand. There was a small copse where the land started to rise. It rose steeply forming a cliff at the edge of the lake the water's edge curved away from him, the water at the foot of the cliff almost like a small bay. Alistair reckoned it would be secluded enough for him to bathe properly in private.

Eager at the thought of a swim in the cool water of the lake he hurried through the trees. He froze when he heard a loud splash. Cautiously he crept forward and looked out onto the water. He couldn't help but smile as he spotted Eirwen in the water. He watched as she frolicked in the lake, swimming a little way, then tipping over and diving below the surface to emerge further away. As a boy he'd once seen an otter playing in the lake near Redcliffe, it had completely entranced him. Watching Eirwen so obviously enjoy the water reminded him of it. He watched as she swam to the cliff and gasped when she pulled herself out. Lithe and nimble she scrambled up the cliff until she got to a small ledge about 20 feet up. Alistair held his breath as he watched her stand quite motionless for a second then she toppled forward and dived into the water, her body straight as an arrow. Alistair watched Eirwen for some time, he was completely captivated. Three more times he watched her climb the cliff and then dive off. He marvelled at how easily she found a way up the seemingly smooth rock. She moved gracefully, without hesitation. His breath caught in his throat every time she launched herself into the air and cut into the water like a knife. Alistair realised the light was fading fast and tore his eyes away from the elf in the lake and looked up at the sky. Looking back across the lake he couldn't see Eirwen, she had dived back under the water. He almost yelped when she surfaced only about six feet away from the water's edge. Holding his breath he backed away slowly, praying to the Maker that he wasn't going to stand on something that would make a noise and give him away. Eirwen emerged from the water, dripping and reached for the small towel she'd placed on top of the small pile that consisted of her armour and small clothes. Alistair watched her from the trees as she dried herself vigorously with the towel. _Maker! She really is beautiful…like a water spirit or a mermaid_ His eyes drank in the site of her, travelling down her body, lingering on her small, round breasts, the nipples dark and hard, then travelling on down, resting of the dark triangle that nestled at the top of her thighs. He felt himself stiffen and almost moaned. As she stooped to retrieve her smallclothes he turned reluctantly and stole quietly through the trees. Once clear of them he hurried back to where he had left the pail and picked it up, heading back up the slope to the camp. He held his shirt and towel loosely in front of him; the last thing he needed was someone to notice his arousal. Arriving back at the camp he dumped the pail and crawled quickly into his tent.

As Eirwen made her way through the copse she noticed Alistair pick up the pail. She hesitated, wanting to speak to him but before she could call out he was already moving swiftly up the slope. She stood, watching him go. She was feeling much calmer now. The swim had cleared her head and cooled her temper. She felt guilty and not a little confused. _Does he really think I'm beautiful?...How could anyone think I'm beautiful right now?...I've heard the stories about Shems and their deceitful ways, how they view elves as whores…This is Alistair, a man who has grown up in the Chantry…Shems, whether they seduce us or rapes us, they see us as nothing more than something to empty themselves into…This is Alistair, a man who has, by his own admission, never lain with a woman…Hah! Am I to be the first notch on his bedpost then?...Does he really think I'm beautiful or is he just trying to flatter me on to my back?...He is a Shem…He is a Warden…He is Alistair_ She watched him until he vanished from sight, beset by doubts. Sighing she looked down and something caught her eye. She frowned and stooped to look more closely. A washcloth. Not _her_ washcloth, hers was in her hand with her towel. It was still damp. Alistair's? Her confusion only increased. _He was spying on me!...maybe he came to swim too, realised I was there and turned back…Maybe…Maybe he thinks I'm beautiful and watched me_ Remembering how she had climbed the cliff and dived off the ledge, she felt her face grow hot. _Did he watch me diving? _She shivered slightly at the thought, part of her appalled, another part of her slightly thrilled.

She made her way back to the camp. Looking around she couldn't see Alistair. Her voice little more than a murmur she asked Leliana where he was. Leliana pointed out Alistair's tent and Eirwen went over to it, stuck her hand through the ties and dropped the washcloth inside.

"You dropped this…in the trees," she said quietly then turned and headed for her own tent. She couldn't be _quite_ sure but she thought she heard him groan and was seized by a sudden desire to giggle.


	11. Chapter 11

_Apologies for the long gap since the last chapter. I started writing this story when I was off sick and had plenty of time to fill. I rather lost my momentum a little but hope to update more frequently from now on._

* * *

Sten, Leliana, Alistair and Eirwen sat around the campfire, each engrossed in their meal. As usual Morrigan had retreated to her own small fire with her meal and likewise, their two Dwarven companions kept themselves apart. Gelert sat near the fire trying not to look too hopeful. Every time another bone was sucked clean and tossed to the floor he wriggled forwards and retrieved it, happy to clean up. Alistair groaned contentedly, licking the grease from his fingers. Eirwen stood and started to fill a kettle with water, "I think we all need a good wash after that," she said with a smile. Gelert stood and barked. "No," she told him "Licking the grease off our fingers doesn't count." Leliana giggled and watched as the smaller woman set the kettle over the fire. She felt unsure how to treat the elf. Her experience of elves was limited to the pampered eleven servants in Orlais. She knew many tales of the Dalish, enough to know certainly that this woman was proud and touchy. She hadn't found out how Alistair had managed to offend Eirwen earlier in the day, the tall warden had been distinctly subdued ever since and had hardly spoken to anyone. She had already realised that the smaller Warden didn't appreciate her musings on the Maker, stiffening every time she spoke of her religious beliefs. Feeling uncomfortable in the silence, she started to talk of Orlais.

As Leliana prattled on about hairstyles and shoes Alistair stole a glance at Eirwen and bit back a laugh. Eirwen, who was usually so guarded about her feelings, was staring at Leliana as if she was some strange creature that had descended from the sky. Leliana faltered, becoming aware of the effect her raptures about shoes were having on the other woman. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Er...the way you wear your hair is interesting. Do all the Dalish keep their hair that short?"

Eirwen continued to stare at Leliana, then almost visibly shook herself realising she was being asked a question. "No, I cut my hair off when I was sick."

"Oh? So will you let it grow again?" asked Leliana brightening, already envisioning the different ways she would braid Eirwen's hair.

Eirwen ducked her head self-consciously and ran her hand over the uneven tufts. "I'm not sure. I like it like this, it's easier to look after. "

Leliana eyed the other woman uncertainly, "It looks like someone just hacked it off with a dagger."

Eirwen grinned, "That's exactly what I did."

"Oh! Maybe you should shave it. It would look much neater. "

"I wouldn't know how," Eirwen pulled a face, "and I don't have a razor."

"I have one!" interrupted Alistair, eager to make amends. "One of the other Wardens used to shave his head, I watched him do it several times."

Eirwen looked at him uncertainly. "I've never used a razor, I don't want to end up losing the tips of my ears."

"Why not let Alistair shave it for you?" suggested Leliana.

Alistair and Eirwen froze, regarding each other warily. Alistair shrugged, "Sure, why not? I shave most days, I have a pretty steady hand." _Maker's breath, how do I get myself into these things? Steady hands? I can feel them shaking already._ Leliana stood and poured some water from the kettle into a bowl. "Good, that's all settled. Let's wash up and then Alistair can go and get his razor."

Sten had retired to his tent and Leliana wandered over to where Morrigan had settled herself to attend to cleaning their dishes. Eirwen stood by the fire, holding herself awkwardly waiting for Alistair to emerge from his tent. He appeared bearing a cloth, a razor and what looked like a small chunk of soap. Of the two of them it was hard to say who looked the most uncomfortable. He busied himself pouring some water into the bowl they had washed up in earlier then set everything down and overturned the now empty water pail and sat on it, his legs wide. He gestured to Eirwen and she moved over to him. He pointed to the ground between his legs. "S-sit....or kneel, whichever you prefer," he mumbled. Stiffly Eirwen sank to the ground, kneeling and then sitting back on her heels, her back to him, rigid with tension.

"I...er...need to wet your hair, then put some shaving soap on it" Alistair told her hesitantly. She merely nodded. Hoping she wouldn't notice the tremor in his hand, Alistair lifted the bowl up and started to scoop warm water onto her head then cursed softly as he saw her shiver when some rolled down her neck and under her armour. He picked up the cloth and mopped at her neck then draped the cloth around her neck and over her shoulders. "Sorry, I should have put the cloth on first. Kennet always used to." Eirwen shrugged but said nothing.

Alistair continued to wet her hair, then started to massage some of the soap he'd brought into it. Eirwen flinched slightly as his large, warm hands massaged her scalp trying to suppress the thrill that coursed through her. She was acutely aware of how close he was as she nestled between his thighs. Trying to distract herself she focussed on watching Morrigan and Leliana at the other side of the camp. They appeared to have finished their task but remained where they were. Alistair cleared his throat grabbing her attention again.

"I'm going to shave your head now, don't move." With slow, sure strokes he drew the razor over Eirwen's head, wiping the razor clean on the cloth around her neck after each one. Eirwen gasped as she felt his fingers against her ear, moving the tip slightly so he could shave around her ear. "S-sorry," stammered Alistair, alarmed at her obvious reaction and uncertain what it meant. "I'm going to do the other side now, " he warned her. Eirwen braced herself for the wave of desire that swept over her as his fingers brushed against her other ear. More than ever she was aware of his solid thighs at either side of her, of his groin just behind her. Unaccountably she wanted to run her hands over his legs, to lean back against him. "There, all done," she heard him say as he removed the towel from her neck and wiped around her hairline with it.

"Thank you." Eirwen ran her hand over her head, feeling the soft fuzz. She made to stand then wobbled slightly realising that one of her legs had gone to sleep. Unthinkingly she put her hand on his thigh to steady herself and heard him hiss as she touched him. She pulled her hand away as if he'd burned her. "Sorry, dead leg," she muttered.

"You should go for a walk. I was going to go and refill the water bucket ready for the morning, want to come and make sure I don't get lost?" Eirwen nodded at him. He grinned at her, rising and flipping the pail over. He looked her over carefully, "Not a bad job if I say so myself."

The tips of Eirwen's ears flushed then she grinned at him, "At least this way Leliana doesn't get to braid it or put ribbons in it."

Alistair chuckled, "A fate worse than death!" He picked up the bucket and held his other arm out to her. She eyed it warily. "You make sure I don't get lost, I make sure you have something to lean on until the circulation's going in your leg again." Settling her face into its usual impassive mask, Eirwen took his arm and they set off towards the lake. Eirwen kept her eyes resolutely ahead trying to ignore the solid warmth under her hand.

At the lakeside she dropped her hand and he busied himself filling the bucket. He stood and turned to her, his breath catching as he saw her standing in the moonlight. He took a deep breath, "Eirwen, I'm sorry about earlier." She turned her large eyes to him. "Not for thinking you're beautiful because I think you are," he hurried on, "but if I offended you by saying it then I apologise. " He paused, uncertain how to continue. "Is it against Dalish law to compliment beautiful women or just for Shems to compliment beautiful Dalish women?" he asked softly.

Eirwen ducked her head not meeting his eye muttering. Unable to catch what she said, Alistair stepped towards her and gently lifted her chin, his head to one side he asked her, "What? What is it?" She lifted her eyes and he could see the uncertainty there.

Flicking her gaze away, she sighed, "I said I don't feel it, beautiful I mean." Seeing his look of surprise she ploughed on, "I have no hair and I lost so much weight on the way to Ostagar I look like a skinned rabbit."

Alistair couldn't help but chuckle at her description of herself. "I think you're being a little harsh on yourself." He shrugged, "I've only seen you as you are now." He grinned at her playfully, "Are you trying to tell me you were fat before?" he quipped.

Eirwen's eyes widened, "I was not fat!" she shot back indignantly.

"No? Just a little more..." Alistair made the outline of a curvaceous woman with his hands and waggled his eyebrows.

Eirwen snorted back a laugh, "Well not maybe quite that much, more...." and made a similar but smaller outline with her own hands.

Alistair grinned at her and picked up the bucket. Slowly they started to walk back to the camp. "You should eat more," he told her with a snigger.

"Eat more? I don't think that's possible, since I had that fever I've been eating like a starved Mabari and I never seem to get full!"

"Part of that is because of the Joining," Alistair told her. "You'll also have more stamina, you'll heal quicker if wounded and so on. Really, don't hold back especially if you want to gain back that lost weight."

"I like the sound of that, although the rest of you may have to go on short rations for a while. So, any other changes I should know about?" Alistair's face fell. "What is it?" she asked startled at the sudden change in him.

Alistair sighed, "The bad news is that you only have thirty years to live, give or take a bit. It's known as the Calling. Eventually the taint will catch up with you and you'll start to have the dreams again. Then it's off to the Deep Roads."

"In Orzammar?"

Alistair nodded.

"Why there?"

"Lots of Darkspawn. The idea is to go down fighting and take as many with you as you can."

"I see. Well, it will be thirty years longer than I would have had if Duncan hadn't found me. I don't think I can complain."

"Shortly before Ostagar Duncan told me he had started to have the dreams again," Alistair told her softly, his voice full of grief.

Unsure what to say to this, Eirwen tucked her hand around his arm and squeezed. He flashed her a grateful look and she left her hand on his arm, the only comfort she could think to offer him.

When they arrived back at the camp everyone else seemed to have retired for the night. Even Sten seemed to have accepted that Morrigan's wards would keep them safe and ceased his usual nocturnal prowling. Setting down the bucket Alistair covered Eirwen's hand with his own.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Every time I think I'm getting used to the idea that he's gone something..." He trailed off, unable to find the words.

She moved to face him, her eyes full of compassion, "Don't be sorry. It's no shame to grieve."

He smiled at her sadly, "Thank you. I suppose it's time to turn in."

Eirwen nodded but didn't move, continuing to gaze up at him, "Good night Lethallin," she breathed softly.

Unable to stop himself, Alistair raised his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "Maker's Breath, you really are beautiful," he told her, his voice thick with desire.

Eirwen's lips parted with surprise and Alistair leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. He drew back flushing, surprised at his own boldness. "Good night Eirwen," he said huskily, then ducked into his tent.

* * *

_Many thanks to WellspringCD for volunteering to be my beta reader and for taking the time to do such a thorough job._


	12. Chapter 12

Eirwen woke up feeling tired and woolly-headed. The usual darkspawn nightmares had been interspersed with erotic dreams that left her feeling confused and not a little irritable, in addition to downright frustrated. Alistair's kiss had been so swift and unexpected she had been left standing there, gaping after him as he disappeared into his tent. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he had vanished so quickly. If he had stayed she couldn't honestly say whether she would have slapped his face hard or kissed him back. The fire in the pit of her belly grew as she imagined taking his face in her hands and kissing him. She groaned and practically threw herself out of her tent, almost falling over a startled Leliana.

"Oh! Good morning Eirwen. Do you want some..."

"No I don't," snarled Eirwen, interrupting the Orlesian. "I'm going for a swim to clear my head," and with that she stalked off toward the lake, clad only in her shift, leaving Leliana stammering behind her.

Leliana turned to the others who merely shrugged at her. She narrowed her eyes at Alistair, who flushed slightly and concentrated hard on his bowl of porridge, refusing to catch her eye.

"Do you think one of us should go after her?" she asked, a small frown of concern creasing her brow. "After all, she's only wearing her shift and she's unarmed."

Alistair choked on his porridge and Sten clapped him hard on the back. "I don't think it would be appropriate for myself or Alistair to follow her if she intends to swim," he pronounced solemnly. Alistair, still spluttering, nodded in agreement.

Morrigan stood up abruptly, "I'm quite sure she is able to look after herself." With that she headed back to her own tent. Leliana looked unconvinced.

Alistair caught her look. "Why don't you go for a swim too, Leliana? Sten and I can make a start on breaking up camp while you're gone." Leliana chewed her lip, then nodded. Turning, she headed after Eirwen, calling over shoulder, "I won't be long."

It didn't take Leliana long to catch up with Eirwen, who didn't look pleased to see her. "I thought I might join you, a swim sounds lovely," she told her, ignoring the elf's scowl.

Eirwen shrugged, "If you wish, it's a big lake. Should you be swimming so soon after you've eaten?"

"Oh, I won't swim that hard. It's more the thought of bathing that's appealing. What I wouldn't give for a hot bath but a cold lake is better than nothing." She cast a sideways glance at Eirwen noting her slight flush. "Although maybe cold water would be better for you," she added with a giggle.

Eirwen's face went flat as she led Leliana to the spot where she had swum the evening before. On reaching the water's edge she stripped off her shift in one swift movement, threw herself into the cold water and set off across the small inlet. Leliana stripped off her own armour and followed her tentatively into the water, bracing herself as the cold water hit her.

Leliana contented herself with splashing around a bit near the shore, content just to be clean all over, watching Eirwen swim up and down at a furious pace. Gradually the elf slowed, her foul mood abating as she tired from the exercise. She swam towards the shore to where Leliana stood shivering in the shallows and grinned. "Do you dive?" she asked Leliana unexpectedly.

"Er...no," replied Leliana, startled by the question.

Eirwen's face broke into a wide smile, "It's wonderful, like flying! I'll show you." With that she swam to the cliff and started to climb. Leliana waded to the shore and started to towel herself dry, then gasped as the smaller woman threw herself head first off the cliff and down into the water. Eirwen bobbed in the water, laughing, "Come on, you should try it!"

Leliana shook her head, laughing, "I think I would probably break my neck if I tried. You're not going to tell me that you learned how to do that from such a height."

Eirwen chuckled, "No, I suppose you're right." She swam to the shore. "Um...I forgot to bring a towel, would you mind if I borrowed yours?"

Leliana held out her towel to Eirwen and started to dress. Smiling, she watched the elf dry herself vigorously with the damp towel. "The swim seems to have done you good, you look much happier. Did you sleep badly?"

Eirwen nodded and pulled her shift over her head.

"I've heard both you and Alistair thrashing around at night sometimes. Nightmares?"

"Grey Warden thing," muttered Eirwen.

Leliana grinned slyly, "But not just nightmares for you last night no? You are not usually so out of sorts in the morning." She smiled to herself as she noted the elf's ears flush deep pink. "You and Alistair appeared to resolve your differences last night, you are friends again?"

"Yes...no...I don't know."

"You don't know?" Leliana looked at Eirwen quizzically.

"He said I was beautiful and he kissed me!" burst out Eirwen indignantly.

"Oh how romantic," sighed Leliana, then stopped with a frown. "Ah, you do not find him attractive?"

Eirwen groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"Oh, you _do_ find him attractive!"

Eirwen looked up. "I do not! He's a Shem!" she protested hotly.

Leliana smiled knowingly. "He's a very _handsome_ Shem," she drawled. She sobered as she saw the anguish in Eirwen's face. "Is it such a problem, that he's human?" she asked softly.

Eirwen nodded miserably. "I don't know what to do," she murmured, hanging her head. "All my life I've been told to beware of Shemlen men; that they are rapists at worst, and seducers at best. I have always believed that they see Elven women as things to be used for their own pleasure."

"And now?"

"Now I'm not sure. Alistair doesn't seem like that kind of person."

"Eirwen, there are always men who will treat women like that, regardless of whether the woman is Human or Elvish. I really don't believe that Alistair is like that at all. Why not follow your instinct about him?"

Eirwen looked shocked. "I would bring shame upon my clan," she told Leliana. "Any Dalish having a relationship with a Shem would be cast out of their clan."

Leliana raised an eyebrow, "But you're not with your clan now."

Eirwen started to protest but was cut off. "Tell me, when the Blight is over will you go back to your clan or still be a Grey Warden?"

Eirwen sighed unhappily, "I can never stop being a Grey Warden. It is not something that I am for the duration of the Blight." Her eyes filled with tears and she turned her face away, blinking hard.

She felt Leliana's hand on her arm, heard her voice soft with compassion, "Then the Grey Wardens are your clan now. Follow your heart Eirwen. Love is love, I cannot believe that the Maker would disapprove." Seeing Eirwen stiffen she added, "Or the Creator."

Leliana watched the stubborn expression fade from Eirwen's face and put her arm around her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze. "Come on, let's get back. You still need to eat before we set out for the Circle Tower."

Eirwen nodded and gave her a small smile, "Thank you."

Together they set off walking back to the camp. Leliana waved away her thanks, "Don't mention it. We are travelling companions and I hope that we can be friends, even if you show a lamentable lack of interest in shoes and hairstyles."

Eirwen giggled and ran her hand over the soft fuzz on her head. "He did a good job."

Leliana looked at Eirwen's shaven head and grinned. "If I was you, I wouldn't ever learn how to it myself," she said with a suggestive look.

Eirwen's faced flushed. "It did feel strangely....intimate."

"Indeed," agreed Leliana saucily and they both burst out laughing as they reached the edge of the small camp.

At the sound of laughter, Alistair turned. As the two women drew near he reached for a bowl, ladled some porridge into it and stood up, holding it out to Eirwen. "I saved some breakfast for you."

Eirwen smiled at him, then looked down at herself. "I think I'd better get dressed first," she told him.

Alistair blushed deeply, trying not to stare. Eirwen, noting his colour, crossed her arms self-consciously which, from Alistair's point of view, just made things worse...or maybe better.

"Yes," he squeaked, blushing even more furiously at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat loudly. "I'll just set it down here then," he said hoarsely. "You go and get dressed and I'll take your tent down while you eat."

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that struck him dumb, "Thank you, Lethallan."

* * *

_Many thanks to WellspringCD for being such a fine beta reader and catching all my missed commas. I really made her work on this chapter! ;)_


	13. Chapter 13

Alistair slumped tiredly on a bench outside the Spoiled Princess, the Circle Tower looming up in front of him. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness starting to settle there, and stretched his long legs out in front of him, pensively sipping from the flagon of ale he nursed. He felt exhausted but had somehow gone beyond the point of sleep, the events of the last three days swirling around in his head, refusing him the oblivion of sleep.

The first day had started out so well, after an initial period of uncertainty on his part. He couldn't believe it had only been three days since he kissed Eirwen. Looking back, he still couldn't quite believe that he'd done it. _It just felt so right._ He had then lain awake for half the night, fretting about it. He hadn't known if she was going to kill him the following morning. When she'd shot out of her tent so obviously in a foul mood, his heart had sunk but then she'd come back from her swim laughing with Leliana and thanked him for saving breakfast for her. He'd half-expected to end up wearing the porridge. He sighed happily remembering how she looked in her shift. Was it wrong of him to want to take it off? He'd been brought up to respect women, and he _did_ respect Eirwen, but he still wanted to take her shift off.

Their walk to the Circle Tower had only taken about three hours and they had arrived at the dock on Lake Calenhad around midday; they hadn't been as far away as they thought. It had been a pleasant three hours. Eirwen had walked alongside him at the head of their little band, as usual, and they had bantered back and forth all morning. It was like she'd lowered a barrier. While he was surprised at the change in her, he was glad of it. It seemed a life time ago, it was hard to believe that he had barely slept since.

Eirwen had thought it best that just she and Alistair go to the Tower to speak to the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. He couldn't disagree with her reasoning; _they_ were the Grey Wardens after all. Morrigan was adamant in her refusal to even set foot in the place and it turned out that Sten had a very low opinion of mages too, so it seemed prudent to leave him behind as well. Leliana was content to remain behind with the others and help set up a camp. Alistair had doubted their limited funds would run to rooms at the Inn for them all. She had announced her intention to go hunting and he wasn't going to argue with a woman that wanted to go and get food for them all.

The first sign of trouble had been the Templar guarding the dock. There was no sign of the boatman that Alistair remembered from his only previous visit to the Tower. Alistair smiled as he remembered how Eirwen had talked him into rowing them across the Lake. The Templar had started out by asking for proof that they were Wardens and she had tied him up in verbal knots. As he had pushed the small boat from the dock, Gelert had jumped in too and the Templar had started to object, only to be quelled by _the look_ from Eirwen. Alistair reckoned that the hound had swallowed enough Darkspawn blood to count as a Warden and, as things turned out, he'd been glad the Mabari had followed them.

The day had steadily gone downhill from there. Knight-Commander Greagoir had initially tried to turn them away; the Tower was overrun with abominations. Alistair had been staggered when Eirwen had persuaded the Knight-Commander to let them go in to look for survivors. He shook his head, baffled at how she managed to persuade people to do what she wanted; she wasn't exactly a silver-tongued flatterer. He chuckled quietly to himself. _It's more that she states exactly what she wants, then gets __**the look**__ and makes them feel completely unreasonable for disagreeing with her._

He suppressed a shudder as he remembered the sound of the large doors slamming behind them. Eirwen, who had gone through them so confidently, had stiffened at the noise and backed up into him. She'd half-turned to look up at him, almost surprised that he was there. Although it had been fleeting, he had seen her panic._ Not so surprising for someone who has spent all her life outside, I suppose. _ Alistair had set his hands on her shoulders to steady her and she had seemed to find it reassuring, flashing him a small smile. In no time at all they'd found some survivors, one of whom he recognised from Ostagar. He'd been surprised that Eirwen seemed to know the woman too, had known her name. She'd seemed pleased to see the older woman. The mage, Wynne, had volunteered to accompany them to the top of the tower once she'd found out that the Knight-Commander would only open the doors to the First Enchanter. After that it had become and endless stream of abominations, undead and, as they ascended higher, demons.

It had taken them until well into the night to clear the first two floors. Alistair had been relieved when Eirwen had suggested that they try to sleep for a few hours. The floor they were on included the apprentice dormitories, so they had been lucky enough to find a dormitory where a couple of the beds were still intact. He'd been too tired to argue when she had suggested that she take the first watch herself, although he felt guilty about it afterwards.

It had felt as if he'd only just closed his eyes when Eirwen shook him awake. His flash of irritation at being woken had quickly dissipated when he'd seen how exhausted she looked. He'd got up quickly and in the time it took him to stretch, Eirwen had taken his place in the bed, wrapping the blanket around her, like a cocoon. She slept like a dormouse, curled up tightly into a ball, the blanket pulled up high, almost over her head. Alistair had felt a strange sort of peace watching her sleep, he recalled.

Too soon, the dawn had started to appear through the east-facing windows. Once Eirwen and Wynne, they had continued the progress up through the Tower. Room after room; floor after floor. It had felt relentless and unending. It was like being trapped in some bizarre nightmare until, upon coming across the sloth demon, they _had_ been trapped in a nightmare.

Alistair shuffled uncomfortably and took a swig from his flagon as he recalled his own time in the Fade. Earlier they had come upon a Templar in the thrall of a Desire Demon. The Templar was trapped, apparently willingly, in a fantasy of having a family of his own. While Alistair had felt sympathetic, there had been a small part of him that scorned the man for his weakness. Then within the hour he had happily succumbed to his own fantasy along similar lines. He flushed; it had been intensely humiliating to have Eirwen turn up in his dream to rescue him_._

Thankfully, once free from the Fade, it hadn't taken much longer for them to fight their way to the Harrowing Chamber. By Alistair's reckoning they had encountered the Sloth Demon late on the second evening and had finally escaped the Fade well into the afternoon of the third day. When Wynne had tried to Eirwen the Litany for her to use, Eirwen had flushed and blustered for a bit before finally admitting that she couldn't read. Alistair had almost laughed with surprise, then had looked at Eirwen's face and realised how much her admission had embarrassed her.

They had found a Templar in some sort of arcane prison at the foot of the stairs to the Harrowing Chamber. Only the Maker knew what kind of horrors he had been subjected to. He had taken some convincing that they weren't apparitions sent to torment him. Although not completely insane, he had begged them to kill any remaining mages. Alistair grimaced and took another deep swig of his ale as he recalled the hatred in the man's voice calling after them as they entered a scene of horror at the top of the Tower.

Alistair quaffed the last of his ale, trying to suppress the memory of the mage they had seen turning into an abomination in the Harrowing Chamber. He had only ever seen one Harrowing and witnessing the young mage being cut down had repulsed him. The mage had barely begun to transform when she had been killed; however, having seen the process complete, Alistair had felt all his old training come to the fore. Full of cold, almost detached, fury he had ruthlessly cut down every abomination in the Chamber. The whole episode was a blur of smashing with his shield, cleansing and smiting. He'd been vaguely aware of Gelert, Eirwen and Wynne, mostly Wynne as he'd needed to be careful that his attacks didn't damage her alongside the blood mages he was killing. Then all of a sudden it was over and he could barely stand.

Eirwen had helped him down to the bottom of the Tower and Wynne had assisted the shaken, but essentially unhurt, First Enchanter down behind them. By the time they had left the Tower it was dark. They had left with a promise of aid from Irving, the First Enchanter. Alistair shook his head. He had expected to get back to the camp, fall into his tent and sleep for a week ; instead, he had somehow got his second wind for long enough to eat something and then felt too restless to sleep. He had wandered along to the Spoiled Princess and persuaded the Inn Keeper, who was about to retire, to let him have a flagon of ale, promising to leave the empty flagon on the doorstep.

He peered ruefully into the empty mug. He still didn't feel like sleeping. Having said that, he also felt too tired to stand up and wander back to the camp. His head was awake but the rest of him seemed to have gone to sleep.

"Are you drowning your sorrows?"

Alistair jumped and swore softly. "Maker's breath! How long have you been there?"

Eirwen smiled tiredly at him, "About two seconds. If I'd realised you were studying the inside of that flagon so intently, I'd have made more noise." She sat herself down at his side. "Are you alright?"

Alistair replied with a smile as tired as her own. "Yeah, I'm fine. My head is whirling, so much has happened, yet I feel too tired to move. I'd hoped the ale would help but..." he shrugged.

"It's late, you should rest. Everyone else has turned in."

"So why haven't you?" he asked her.

She smiled sheepishly, "I sort of feel the same. It's been a strange few days." She stood up and held out her hand. "Come on, we should get back. If we fall asleep here, the others will awake tomorrow and think we've run away together."

Alistair snorted with amusement and grasped her hand, hauling himself unsteadily to his feet.

Eirwen grinned at him, "Are you sure you aren't drunk?"

"I don't have much of a head for it, but I promise I've only had the one," he told her, a little indignantly. "There wasn't time for any more," he added with a grin. "The Inn Keeper was about to turn in." He lurched towards the doorstep to deposit the empty flagon, every muscle protesting loudly. Having set it down, he winced as he straightened. "Maker's breath, I feel like I've been battered by a dozen ogres."

Eirwen smiled and tucked herself under his shoulder. "Come on, I'm just the right height for a crutch."

Alistair chuckled and allowed himself to lean on her a little, wary of leaning on her too hard. After all, she must be almost as tired as him. Through the splint mail he wore, he could feel how small her shoulders felt. He could feel her arm across his back, and found himself wishing he had removed his armour before coming down to the Inn. Slowly and silently they made their way the short distance to the camp. Eirwen guided him to the tent they had stowed his bedroll and pack. He tried not to wince as he removed his arm from her shoulder.

"Wynne put some ointment on my shoulders earlier, it really helped. She gave me the rest of the jar to keep, would you like me to rub some on yours?"

Alistair groaned, "I'm not sure I can get my armour off, even my hands are seizing up."

Eirwen grinned, flushing slightly. "I can help with the buckles," she offered.

He blushed, then nodded. "Thanks."

Eirwen nodded at his tent, "You go on, I'll be back in a minute," and with that she ducked into her own tent.

Alistair groaned at the pain in his legs as he crouched down to crawl into his tent. Once inside he knelt and flexed his stiff hands before fumbling ineffectively with the buckles on his armour.

Moments later the tent flap drew back and Eirwen scooted into the tent bearing a large jar. "I don't know what's in this but it's wonderful," she told him, waving the jar. "My back was so sore earlier. I could have cried but Wynne rubbed some of this on it and it feels fine now. Creator save me, I don't think I've ever fired so many arrows in one day!" Setting the jar down, she knelt in front of him, eyeing his armour with a frown. "Um...where do I start?"

Alistair raised his arms revealing the buckles at his sides. "Undo these first, then you call pull it off as you would a shirt." Her nimble fingers soon had the buckles undone, then she untucked his undershirt, grasped the hem of the shirt and the bottom edge of the leather liner under the splint mail and stood up, using her upward momentum to haul the splint mail and shirt up and off. The tent filled with the pungent aroma of leather, sweat and blood as the armour came off. He hissed as his arms came up, pain shooting through his sore muscles.

"Sorry," she muttered. She leaned forwards again and undid the buckles at his hips, then sat back on her heels looking at his legs thoughtfully. "I think if I pull these down part way, then you sit, I can take off your boots and get the leg armour off." He felt the heat rise in his face at the thought of her pulling his armoured leggings down and tugged them down himself before she had a chance to, making sure that the thin breeches he wore underneath stayed in place. Shifting awkwardly in the cramped space, he managed to move so that he was sitting. Trying to hide a small smile, Eirwen busied herself removing his boots. Putting them to one side, she couldn't help wrinkling her nose at the state of his socks.

It was Alistair's turn to apologise, "Sorry, they're a bit ripe."

Turning her face slightly to the side Eirwen grasped the toe of each sock between her finger and thumb and tugged sharply, then threw them out of the tent.

"Hey! They're my last clean pair!" Alistair protested.

"By the gods! If they're a clean pair, what state are the rest in?" Eirwen shook her head and held up her hand as he started to reply, "No, don't tell me. I really don't want to know." She turned her attention to the laces at his ankles and had them untied in a heartbeat, then tugged his mail leggings off and dropped them on top of his mail shirt. Picking the whole pile of armour up, she dropped it outside the tent, throwing his boots out after it.

"I think it all needs to air before we're overcome by the fumes."

Alistair grinned sheepishly, "I'll have you know it's a good, manly aroma."

Free of the armour on his legs, Alistair shifted, to sit with his legs crossed.

Eirwen crawled out of the tent, affording Alistair a view that almost made him groan out loud, saying "I'll be right back." She reappeared bearing a bowl of water. "I'm afraid it's barely warm."

Alistair reached out to grab his pack, wincing with pain. Eirwen snatched it up and handed it to him, waiting patiently as he rummaged for his washcloth, soap and a small towel. Once he had found what he wanted, she took the pack from him and returned it to its place at the front of his tent. Quickly and efficiently she washed him, drying him gently with the towel. Alistair tried hard not to blush, and failed, at being washed like a child. His flush deepened when Eirwen leaned close to him and made a great show of sniffing his skin, "Mmmmm, fresh as a daisy," she giggled. Turning, she tucked his things back into his pack and set the bowl of water outside.

Eirwen picked up the jar, flipped the lid open and grinned up at him, "So, shoulders, back. Arms?"

Alistair looked her and swallowed, feeling slightly nervous, then nodded. She half-crawled around behind him, then knelt at his back. She scooped out some of the ointment and started to spread it across his shoulders. It was thick and viscous but spread easily as it warmed between her hands and his skin. Her hands strong and firm, she massaged the ointment into his skin, her fingers working the clenched muscles. Alistair groaned with pleasure and relief as his muscles gave up their tension. Her hands worked along his shoulders, then up his neck. His head slumped forwards slightly as he started to relax. There was a pause as she scooped more ointment from the jar, then she went to work on the muscles around his shoulder blades and then down his rib cage.

As her fingers worked their way around his sides, he twitched and snorted.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she asked, "Ticklish?"

"Fearsome warriors aren't ticklish," he told her, struggling not to laugh.

He was relieved and slightly disappointed when her fingers left his sides as she reached for the jar again. He felt her edge closer, then her hands started to work their magic on his arms. He felt himself grow hot as she rested against him, running her hands down his biceps. He squirmed uncomfortably as he felt himself stir and desperately tried to focus on anything else as she leaned into him. Struggling to distract himself, he tried running through his templar meditation exercises.

Abruptly Eirwen leaned back, then scooted around him to kneel in front of him, jar in hand. He watched, almost in a dream, as she scooped out more ointment and rubbed it between her hands then attacked the muscles underneath his collar bones. He couldn't take his eyes off her and didn't fail to notice the appreciative look she was giving his chest. Keeping her head down, Eirwen reached for the jar once more then reached for his left hand which was clenched in a fist at his side. Slowly she unclenched his fingers and massaged the ointment into his hand; first the back, then she turned it over and massaged the palm. Finally she massaged the long fingers. Alistair sat watching her, entranced. She gave her complete attention to his hand, then set it down gently. Dipping her fingers back into the jar she murmured, "Other one."

In a daze, Alistair held out his right hand to her. Gently but firmly, she massaged it as thoroughly as she had the left. Gradually her fingers stilled but she didn't drop his hand. Alistair sat mesmerised as she bent and kissed his palm, then straightened and looked up at him, murmuring, "You have beautiful hands." Alistair's heart leaped as he looked into her eyes, dark with desire. Leaning forward, he pulled her towards him and covered her mouth with his own. He growled deep in his throat as he felt her shiver in his arms and her lips parted under his. She whimpered as he pulled her closer and shuffled onto his lap, wrapping her legs around him. Mewling softly she pressed herself against him, clasping his face between his hands. Alistair felt himself harden and groaned as Eirwen obviously felt it too and wriggled against his erection. His hands moved of their own volition across the skin of her back, exposed by her Dalish armour, then up to the sides of her armour where they tugged at the laces. Breaking apart briefly, she shrugged out of the leather then pressed against him, grasping the back of his head and pulling his head down to reclaim his mouth.

Tentatively, Alistair drew back slightly and raised a hand to a bare breast. Encouraged by a throaty moan, he raised his other hand and cupped the other breast, brushing the nipple with his thumb. He felt a shudder run through her and the ache in his groin was almost unbearable. He broke free of her mouth and leaned back slightly looking at her breasts in his hands, ignoring the little whine of disappointment from her. Her breasts were small but full, he was surprised at their weight. The nipples were dark and small, firm and erect under his circling thumbs. Experimentally he pinched a nipple between his finger and thumb, carefully watching Eirwen's reaction. Her eyes almost closed, she hissed and arched her back, thrusting her pelvis against his straining groin. Suddenly he moved his hands around her waist, a part of him marvelling as how small it felt under his large hands, and lifted her up. Dipping his head, he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. He was rewarded by a keening moan as Eirwen clasped his head and arched against him and felt his erection twitch in response. He moved one arm under her bottom to support her weight and then with his free hand caressed her other breast.

_This is too soon. _Reluctantly, Alistair released the nipple in his mouth and set Eirwen gently down on his lap, enfolding her in his arms and pressing her to him. "Eirwen," he gasped throatily, "I think we should slow down." He felt her stiffen and pull away from him slightly. She looked up at him, the confusion and hurt in her eyes plain for him to see.

"You don't want me?"

He groaned and pulled her back against him. "Oh I do, you know I do. It's just..."

"What's wrong with me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong with you. It just feels..." he floundered, searching for the words. "It feels too fast."

She pulled away from him again, eyeing him with suspicion.

He raised his hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek, blushing. "The other night was the first time I'd ever kissed a woman and all of a sudden we're practically..." Alistair ran out of words, then cleared his throat and tried again. "You know I was raised in a Chantry," he shrugged helplessly. "I suppose I'm old-fashioned but it seems like we barely know each other and we've gone from a kiss to this in the blink of an eye. It feels like too much, too soon. I want to get to know you better, to do some good old-fashioned courting before we..." Alistair ran his hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "I'm sorry, I'm probably not expressing myself very well," he groaned in frustration.

Eirwen said nothing, waiting patiently. She tried to remember what the Kennel Master at Ostagar had told her about 'courting'. _Something about when a man and a woman like each other and start getting to know each other? _

"You know I've never..."

"Neither have I," murmured Eirwen softly.

"Then can we wait until we're both sure? Can it be something we both decide to do, rather than something that happens because..." He groaned again, "Ugh, why is this so hard to explain?"

He was relieved to see her small smile. She looked up at him, "I think I understand."

Alistair heaved a sigh of relief, then another one of disappointment as she twisted and reached for her discarded armour. Swiftly she pulled it over her head and laced it. She grabbed the jar of ointment then made a face at him. "It's not fair," she told him. "Wynne rubbed _my_ back for me."

Alistair chuckled, "Maybe I was just born lucky."

"Good night Lethallin." Eirwen bent and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Good night Eirwen," he replied softly, trying not to groan.

Eirwen ducked out of the tent and he edged forwards to tie the flaps closed behind her. Alistair lay down on his bedroll and pulled the blanket over him. He sighed as his fingers unlaced his breeches. When he stroked himself to his climax there was no dream woman in his mind, instead there was the memory of Eirwen, how she had felt under his mouth and under his hands.

* * *

_Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review, it's always encouraging to know that people are enjoying my story. Thank you also to those who have added it to their alerts/favourites._

_Last, but not least, thank you again to WellspringCD for doing such a sterling job of beta-reading this. If I say that this final version is the 4th version of this chapter, it might give you some idea just how much work she has put into this._


	14. Chapter 14

Eirwen awoke to find sunlight streaming through the pale canvas of her tent. She quickly donned her armour and scrambled outside to be greeted by the sight of her companions sitting on the grass. Alistair, busy cleaning his armour, looked up at her and smiled broadly then flushed and looked away. Eirwen struggled to keep the grin off her face and looked around at the others.

Leliana greeted her with a sly, knowing smile, "Good morning Eirwen."

Eirwen felt her face grow warm, and squinted up at the sun, "Good morning. Although I suspect I'm almost too late to call it morning."

"You needed the rest child, after the trials in the Tower."

Eirwen looked across at Wynne, who was looking in remarkably fine fettle for an old woman who had just spent a gruelling three days fighting demons and abominations.

"You slept well, Wynne?"

"Indeed I did, thank you. How are you this morning? No soreness?"

"Oh no, that ointment was wonderful! I gave some to Alistair."

Wynne looked at Alistair, her lips twitching with amusement, "Yes, he mentioned that when I offered to check him over this morning." Wynne struggled not to laugh when she remembered how the young man had blushed furiously and stammered that Eirwen had already attended to his aching shoulders. She couldn't resist a glance at him and smirked to see him bent over his armour, rubbing energetically at it. Although his face was hidden, his ears were scarlet.

Eirwen stomach growled loudly. Sheepishly she busied herself, cutting some bread. Her eyes lit up as Leliana handed her a jar of honey, which she spread lavishly on the several thick slices she had cut for herself. Laden with bread and honey, she lowered herself carefully to the ground next to Alistair. He grinned as she tucked in. "You'll be back to your normal fighting weight in no time at this rate," he told her.

Her eyes sparkled at him over the slab of bread and honey and she paused, "How are we doing for money?"

"Not too badly," he told her. He chuckled, "Especially as you removed everything from the Tower that wasn't nailed down. I thought we might pick through it later to see if there's anything that would be useful, and then we can sell the rest to Bodahn."

Eirwen nodded, then turned her attention back to her breakfast as honey started to run down her fingers.

"Why? Was there something you wanted to buy?"

Eirwen popped the last of the bread into her mouth, nodding, "Mmmmhm."

"Don't tell me...Leliana has persuaded you that you need satin shoes and ribbons for your hair."

She snorted with laughter, then Alistair's insides turned to jelly as she slowly licked the honey from her fingers.

"It doesn't count you know?"

She looked at him, confused. "What doesn't?"

"Licking yourself clean. I found that out the hard way." Alistair grinned at her.

"Oh?" She grinned back at him.

He straightened his face and shook his head, "I was raised by wild dogs and..."

"Wild dogs?" she laughed.

"From the Anderfels. I only found out that you didn't have to lick yourself clean when I was eight. The stable master told me it didn't count and stuck me under the pump. Maker, was it cold!" He shivered theatrically.

"And there I was, thinking you'd been raised by the Arl at Redcliffe."

"Ah, that came later. He rescued me from the dogs you see. It was a step up you know. I went from living with wild dogs to living in a stable with the horses."

"That would explain your socks then?"

Alistair blushed, "Socks are next on my to-do list, I promise."

She smiled at him and his heart melted. Trying hard not to blush, Alistair concentrated on cleaning his armour.

"I thought we should go to Redcliffe next." Eirwen had felt a little hesitant about suggesting it and was surprised when Aistair's face lit up.

"That sounds good to me," he told her, beaming.

"Are you really looking forward to going back there?" asked Eirwen.

Alistair looked across at her, surprised, "Yes, why?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. It seems harsh…the way he packed you off to the Chantry. It would be understandable if you wanted nothing more to do with him."

"Well, he did try to visit me a few times, but I didn't exactly make it easy for him. I was churlish and rude, he gave up in the end."

"Do lots of children get sent to the Chantry?" she asked curiously.

Alistair nodded, "Orphans mostly. They usually end up becoming priests; or templars if they have the aptitude."

Eirwen shuddered, frowning, "It seems wrong, pushing children into such a life. Asking them to give up so much."

"I don't know, the alternatives are pretty awful. If not for the Chantry, most of them would be on the streets with no-one to care for them. They'd be beggars and thieves mostly. Worse probably. At least the Chantry takes them in; gives them food, clothes and a roof over their heads, plus a way to survive as adults."

Eirwen thought about it for a moment, "I suppose I hadn't looked at it that way. I think I'm glad though that I am a Dalish orphan and not a human one."

She stood abruptly, her eyes sad. "I'd better go and wash." Leaving Alistair floundering at the change in her, she headed down towards the lake.

Alistair continued to clean his armour, puzzling over the change in her. After a few minutes, when she hadn't returned, he decided to go after her. He set off towards the lake and soon spotted her, standing near the water's edge. She was standing, gazing out across the water, her arms folded, hugging herself. _ She looks so small and lonely._ She looked back at him over her shoulder as she heard him approach. _Why so sad?_ As he reached her, Eirwen turned back to the view over the lake. Alistair stopped just behind her uncertainly.

Tentatively he reached out a hand and rubbed her back. "What is it?" he asked.

Eirwen looked round at him, her eyes full of heartache. "I was just thinking about home. For you it is a place, just over there," she gestured across the lake. "For me it is a people and even if I wanted to go back I wouldn't be sure where to look."

Alistair stepped forwards and put his arms around her. Eirwen leaned back against his chest, struggling to master the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. Although comforted in Alistair's arms, the gesture threatened to undo her completely.

"Would it be so hard to find your Clan?" Alistair felt her small shrug.

"I'd find them in the end I suppose. Finding _a_ Clan wouldn't be that hard. Once I've found one, they could probably give me word of my own Clan."

Alistair forced himself to ask the question. "So will you return to your Clan, once the Blight is over?"

"How can I? I am a Grey Warden now. That has to come before everything else." Eirwen felt his arms tighten around her.

"While Redcliffe does feel like home in a way, I was never that happy there. Not after Arl Eamonn married anyway. I didn't really feel at home until I joined the Grey Wardens. I only knew them all for six months but in that short time they came to feel like the family that I never had." He sighed sadly, "And now they're all gone."

Eirwen snuggled back against him. "We can rebuild them," she told him.

"It won't be the same though."

"No, things never are," she paused. "But it doesn't mean they will be worse, just different."

Eirwen turned around in his arms, looking up at him. "When all this is over, we will rebuild the Grey Wardens. We will make a new family...or clan...or whatever you want to call it."

Alistair stared down at her. He could see the determination in her eyes and could, in that moment, believe that anything was possible. He hugged her tightly, feeling hope flare in him. For the first time since that awful night at Ostagar he felt that there was a future that he wanted to be a part of.

Slowly they made their way back to the camp. "So, you said you wanted to buy something...when you asked me about how much money we had?"

Eirwen nodded looking slightly sheepish, "I wondered if we had enough for me to buy some clothes."

"Clothes?" Alistair wondered if his joke about Leliana's influence and shoes had been that far off the mark.

Eirwen hurried on, "Just a pair of breeches and a couple of shirts. Oh, and a breastband."

Alistair flushed at the mention of the underwear, then looked confused, "Don't you have _any_ clothes?"

Eirwen shook her head, looking extremely embarrassed.

Alistair's eyes widened in surprise, "Really? You mean all this time you've had nothing more than what you stood up in?"

"Well, Bodahn gave me a shift and some small clothes after we drove off those Darkspawn, but apart from that, not really, no."

"You didn't pack _anything_ when you left your clan with Duncan?"

Eirwen shook her head with a rueful grin, "Well, nothing very useful anyway."

Alistair groaned, "Maker's breath! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"You said we didn't have much money at Lothering and I didn't know how much those things would cost."

Alistair shook his head, "Come on, let's go and see what Bodahn's got."

In no time at all Eirwen was kitted out with the clothing she needed. Bodahn had also been able to supply needles and thread as the only suitable clothes he'd had were boys' clothes and Eirwen wanted to alter them so that they would fit comfortably. Alistair raised an eyebrow at the sewing accoutrements.

"What?" asked Eirwen, catching his look.

He grinned at her, "I don't know, you sewing just seems unexpected. It seems so feminine."

Eirwen froze. "You don't think I'm feminine?" she asked icily.

_Maker's breath Alistair! Just open your mouth and plonk your big foot right in it!_ Alistair slowly let his gaze wander over Eirwen, taking in her small, pert breasts, down over her exposed abdomen, the small waist that broadened into generous hips. "Oh I do," he breathed huskily. He cleared his throat nervously, feeling his face grow warm. "Sorry, it was poor choice of words. Having seen you kill Darkspawn and abominations, a needle isn't an obvious weapon of choice."

Eirwen smiled coyly up at him. "I have hidden talents," she told him, her words laden with meaning.

Alistair was sure that he must be blushing all the way down to his feet. "R-right. Um, I'd better go and wash my socks then...just in case."

With a grin and a wink he turned and headed back to his tent, intent on washing everything he had, leaving Eirwen giggling behind him.

* * *

_With thanks again to WellspringCD for being my beta reader and dealing with my comma problems_


	15. Chapter 15

Following a light lunch, the group moved towards Redcliffe at a leisurely pace. The sun was just past its peak and Alistair, in particular, was starting to suffer from the heat in his newly acquired Templar armour. Eirwen smiled as she recalled his almost childish delight at finding it. He had extolled the virtues of its styling at some length only stopping when she had begun to tease him, suggesting that Leliana could advise him on matching footwear and ribbons for his hair. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. She had to agree that he did look fine in it, although she didn't like the matching helm and was glad that he had taken it off, carrying it in the crook of his arm.

She scanned the surrounding countryside. She was getting more used to travelling in open country, but it still made her uneasy. She had spent her whole life moving from place to place through woods and forests, only making short trips across the open land between one woodland to the next. She felt very exposed. She stiffened as a woman appeared around the bend in the road, running towards them, her arms windmilling.

"Help! Bandits! They're killing everyone," she yelled. The woman half-turned, pointing behind her, then whirled around and ran back in the direction she had come from. Alistair had already jammed his helmet on his head and was starting to run after the woman, reaching for his sword and shield. The hairs stood up on the back of Eirwen's neck; the way the apparently unarmed woman had run back heedlessly into mortal danger bothered her.

"Alistair!" she barked. The large man skidded to a halt; in other circumstances she might have found it comical. The helmed head turned towards her. She suppressed a shiver, she really didn't like that slit in the helmet; it seemed sinister somehow and she had to remind herself of the sunny smile and warm brown eyes it concealed. "I don't like this, there's something wrong." She shrugged her bow from her back and nocked an arrow loosely.

"A trap?" Alistair's voice echoed eerily within the helm.

She nodded and moved up to join him. Behind her the others readied their own weapons and, warily, the group moved forwards.

The rounded the bend. Ahead of them they could see an overturned cart and some dead livestock. There were no bandits to be seen, and no corpses either. The woman who had called for help ran to a lone figure standing in front of the wagon, then stopped and turned. Behind them Eirwen heard a loud groaning. "MOVE!" screamed Eirwen, throwing herself forwards. Most of the party were able to move out of the way of the falling tree except Sten, who had been bringing up the rear, as usual. They scrambled to their feet as a voice cried out "The Grey Warden dies here!"

Eirwen looked around her. Archers stood on the banks at each side of the road. Ahead of them the man drew his weapons and was joined by others from behind the overturned cart. Eirwen could see the sly smile on the woman's face as she started to cast. With a yell, Alistair threw himself at the mage. A white light radiated from him and the mage cried out in shock, and then her eyes widened as he ran her through. Leliana and Morrigan concentrated on the archers on the banks, focussing their fire, taking them down quickly and efficiently. Eirwen joined them, keeping half an eye on Alistair, who had been joined by Gelert. She saw Alistair falter, tiring under the unaccustomed weight of the heavy plate. There was only one ambusher left, but Eirwen's eyes had trouble following him, he moved so quickly. The figure danced behind Alistair and planted a foot in the back of Alistair's knee, sending him sprawling. Moving back against the wagon, the figure paused, a feral grin on his face. He started to lean forwards, daggers glinting in the sun. Eirwen pulled her drawstring back as far as she could. Aiming slightly low, she loosed her arrow and sighed with relief when it struck the stooping figure in the shoulder, slamming him backwards and pinning him against the cart.

Slowly Alistair got to his feet and turned to them. Eirwen dropped her bow and ran back to the tree. Sten lay pinned beneath it, his legs twisted. His colour was ashen but he was conscious and remarkably stoic. The rest of the group joined her and together they managed to lift the fallen tree enough to pull him free. Eirwen's head swam and she tried not to think about how painful it must have been to be pulled out from under the tree as she strained with the others to keep it high enough for long enough for Leliana to tug him clear.

Behind her she heard a moan. Jerking her head at Alistair she spun on her heel, "Let go and talk to our 'bandit'"

Alistair followed her, pulling his helm off. He glowered, "These are no ordinary bandits. This was too well organised and they had a mage with them."

They stopped in front of the cart. Eirwen could see that the man pinned to it by her arrow was an elf and felt a surge of anger. _ Damned flat ears. Shemlen dogs._ The man lifted his head and regarded them coolly. Eirwen was surprised at his colouring. His skin was tanned, his eyes brown, but his hair was blonde. His face was tattooed but it was no marking she had ever seen amongst the Dalish.

He groaned, "Uuuunnnngh, I had rather expected to wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."

"An oversight that could easily be rectified," said Eirwen coldly, drawing her dagger.

"Of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled. If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?"

"Like I said, an oversight," snarled Eirwen. "You seem awfully glib for a prisoner." To her surprise the man chuckled.

"It is my way, or so I am told," he sighed, wincing slightly with pain. "Let's see then. I assume you have kept me alive to ask me some questions, yes? If so, let me save you time and get right to the point."

Eirwen merely stood and looked at him steadily, her face impassive. Alistair's lips twitched in amusement as he saw the assassin swallow nervously. S_he's got the look again. It's nice to see someone else on the receiving end of it._

"My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any suviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at sadly."

Zevran paused, obviously expecting a question. He looked quizzically at the elf before him, who continued to stare at him. He felt a little confused. He had expected questions, threats of torture maybe, but this woman just stood there looking at him, expressionless...waiting for him to continue. Zevran took a deep breath, then wished he hadn't as pain lanced through him, and started to tell of how he had been hired by Loghain to kill the remaining Grey Wardens. He spoke of how, having failed, his life was now forfeit. If she didn't kill him, the Crows would.

He was momentarily distracted as a tall, curvaceous redhead joined the two Wardens in front of him and listened intently. He ran out of words, clenching his teeth against pain. The redhead started to explain to the elf what she knew about the Antivan Crows. Zevran noted her Orlesian accent, recalled noting her skill with a bow in the ambush and hissed in surprise. Eirwen and Alistair turned their attention briefly to the Orlesian woman giving Zevran a moment to inspect them.

The Warden in the Templar armour had surprised him; he had assumed that the armour was simply looted and worn for expediency, or maybe a disguise. That the Warden _was_ actually a Templar had been a nasty surprise. He was built like a typical warrior, tall and broad, but was unexpectedly quick on his feet. Zevran had had to work harder than he'd anticipated to best him. Zevran had noted how he deferred to his companion. _ All brawn and no brain?_ He wasn't about to make any more assumptions just yet though, he'd had enough nasty surprises for one day.

Zevran turned his attention to the other Warden, the elf. Dalish judging by the markings on her face and the unusual armour she wore. Her face was a mask, giving nothing away. Unusual though to see a Dalish in the company of the Shemlen they were usually so contemptuous of. He didn't suppose his being an elf would do him any favours, he knew first-hand how scornful the Dalish were of _flat ears_. She was skinny, even for an elf, he was surprised that she'd managed to pull off a shot that could have pinned him so firmly to the cart. He grimaced. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, his left arm had gone completely numb and he could feel blood tracing a path down both his chest and his back.

The Wardens turned their attention back to him.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Eirwen asked, her face still flat.

Zevran summoned up all of his charm and smiled winningly (he hoped) at her. "Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

He saw her eyebrow go up and felt his heart sink. Somehow he didn't think it was a good sign. The Templar noted it too and winced, which didn't reassure him. He found himself wishing that the open-faced warrior was interrogating him.

"If you're done with the interrogation, I've a proposal for you," he paused, grinning. "If you're of a mind."

Eirwen didn't reply but did cock her head to one side, which he took as encouragement to continue.

"The thing is, I like living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you instead."

He felt gratified when her eyes widened with surprise. "You must think I'm royally stupid," she snapped at him.

"I think you're royally tough to kill and utterly gorgeous."

Her face went flat again.

"Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery," he hastened to assure her, "But there are worse things in life that serving a deadly sex goddess."

Alistair's face darkened and he stepped forward threateningly. Eirwen laid a hand on his arm and the big warrior stopped, scowling furiously at Zevran.

"What kind of loyalty could I expect from an assassin?"

"I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point someone expects me to die for failing." He sighed, then explained how he'd been recruited by the Crows. He saw her eyes darken when she heard about how the Crows bought child slaves.

"What do you want in return?"

Zevran hid a smile, so business-like this one. "Well...let's see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and it would make me marginally more useful to you."

The Templar snorted.

"And somewhere down the line, if you should decide you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?"

She gazed at him, considering her offer. Zevran held his breath as he met her eyes.

She nodded, "Very well, I accept your offer."

"What?" the Templar exploded. "You're taking the assassin with us now? Does this really seem like a good idea?"

Eirwen turned to Alistair. "Don't worry about it, Lethallin," she told him. Her face brightened with a smile that just melted his resistance. "We could use him."

Alistair sighed, "I...well, no, I suppose we could use all the help we can get." He ran a gauntleted hand through his hair. "Still, if ever there was a sign that we're desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello," he grumbled.

Eirwen sheathed her dagger and turned. "Wynne," she called, "We need your help here."

* * *

_As ever, thanks go to my beta reader WellspringCD._


	16. Chapter 16

Eirwen chatted casually with the newest member of their band, trying to ignore the lascivious looks he was giving her. While she found his tales entertaining, they were peppered with innuendo. Although slightly shocked at his blatant flirting, she didn't feel as offended by it as she thought she should be. She was forced to admit to herself that this was because he was, like her, an elf. It made her extremely uncomfortable to realise this prejudice in herself.

Zevran was so different from the Dalish elves she had grown up with, alien and exotic. There was something that reminded her of Tamlen; something _irrepressible_ about him. It made her feel a little sad, but was comforting too, in its own way. Although she could never imagine Tamlen talking to her, or any woman, in this suggestive way. She tried hard not to giggle. Zevran managed to turn almost every conversation into a proposition. Eirwen was tempted to dismiss it as idle talk, but there was a glint in Zevran's eye that suggested otherwise. She smiled to herself as she heard Ashelle's voice in her head; 'all mouth and trousers', her foster-mother would have said.

Eirwen glanced across at Alistair and caught his gaze flicking away from her and Zevran. He sat near the fire with Leliana and Wynne, not obviously a part of their conversation. _He looks tense. Is he angry because I allowed Zevran to join us?_ She frowned; she didn't know Alistair well enough to understand what drove his moods, rare as they were. _Is he jealous?_ She smiled to herself at the absurdity of such an idea. She could look at Zevran and appreciate that he was good-looking, however she felt no attraction to him. For all his light-hearted flirting, there was something predatory about him that repelled her. Eirwen knew that Alistair desired her but he was so hesitant about it, especially when compared to Zevran.

Her mind drifted back to the night she had rubbed Alistair's back for him and she felt her face grow hot. Zevran laughed, "I see fire in your eyes, my dear Warden."

Eirwen turned to look at him, startled out of her reverie, "What?"

"Maybe you are not so immune to my charms after all?" Zevran grinned at her.

Horrified at his implication, Eirwen backed away slightly, stammering, "Er...not at all...I-I mean that's not what..." She looked back to the fire to see Alistair watching them intently. She wasn't sure what he saw in her face but he scowled and started to rise to his feet.

"I need to talk to Alistair." She turned and started to walk towards Alistair, trying to head him off.

For a moment she thought Alistair was going to swerve around her but he came to a stop directly in front of her, glowering over her head at Zevran. "What did he say? Did he insult you?" he growled.

Eirwen shook her head, "No. Anyway, if he insulted me I can stand up for myself. It was nothing, a misunderstanding." She looked at him, blushing slightly. "It was my own fault, day-dreaming when I should be listening."

Alistair glanced down at her, slightly suspicious, and then he remembered how, last time she'd been caught day-dreaming, she had readily she had agreed to have Morrigan accompany them. His lips twitched, trying not to grin. "That will become a habit if you're not careful."

Eirwen tried not to look sheepish and swatted his arm. "Oh hush!" she told him. She looked at him hopefully, "Would you like to go for a walk? I feel restless and I'm tired of fending Zevran off."

Alistair grinned at her, "I'd love to." He offered her his arm adding, "I promise I'll be the perfect gentleman, you won't have to fend _me_ off."

Eirwen sighed with disappointment. "What a shame," she murmured. At her side, Alistair felt himself flush.

They strolled from the camp, up a slight incline towards a small copse. Alistair glanced down appreciatively at the elf on his arm. She had turned out to be extremely proficient with a needle and had altered the boys' clothing he had bought for her so that it fitted her almost like a second skin. When she had first tried on the new clothes the breeches had been huge on her. He'd wondered why she had bought something so obviously oversized, then realised that it was the only way she'd get them over her hips. In consequence, the waist was huge and she could probably have fitted both of her legs into one trouser leg. He'd grinned at her, "You'll have to eat an awful lot of porridge to fill those out." She'd merely snorted and rolled her eyes at him. The shirts hadn't been as bad but were loose and shapeless and hung halfway to her knees. She'd commandeered Leliana to help and they had both disappeared into Eirwen's tent. She'd re-emerged in her armour and spent the next few hours altering her new clothes.

Trying not to be obvious, he surreptitiously admired her. The shirt had been shortened and tailored. It was nipped in at her tiny waist and she wore it outside of her breeches. He'd been fascinated by the way she'd painstakingly removed the cuffs, altered the sleeves and then re-attached the cuffs. The breeches had had a similar make over. She'd taken in the legs and waist, taking great pains to remove to waist band, shortening it, then sewing it back on. She glanced up at him and he flushed, embarrassed at having been caught examining her so closely.

"What?" she asked him.

Alistair grinned, "I was just thinking that if you ever get tired of being a Grey Warden, you could make your living as a seamstress."

Eirwen gave him a coquettish smile, "Ah, you were admiring my handiwork. I told you I had hidden talents." She slid her hand along his arm until it rested in his own.

"It wasn't just your handiwork I was admiring," he told her, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Eirwen giggled and Alistair groaned, "Maker! I'm starting to sound like Zevran."

She rolled her eyes at him, "You'll have to do better than that to sound like Zevran."

They walked into the trees, just far enough to be out of sight of anyone watching from the camp. Eirwen spotted as fallen tree and led Alistair over to it and they both sat down. Alistair studied her hand in his own, marvelling at how small it seemed.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked her.

"Zevran's constant flirting?"

Alistair nodded.

"It's more an irritant, like a fly buzzing," Eirwen told him. "It's made me face some uncomfortable truths though."

Alistair looked at her curiously, "How so?"

"About how prejudiced the Dalish are. About how prejudiced _I_ am. We accuse humans of it but we are as bad ourselves."

Eirwen held up her hand as Alistair started to protest. "I know; it's not all without foundation. It's made me think though, about all the assumptions I make about humans and their motives."

Alistair put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. "Hey, you're not a bad person. I think you're being too hard on yourself. There are good reasons why the Dalish are so suspicious of humans."

"It's not just humans though, it's our own kind; we look down on elves who live amongst humans. Do you know what was the first thing I thought when I saw Zevran and realised he was an elf?" She ploughed on, not giving him time to try and reply, "Flat Ear. That's what we call them. "

"Does this mean that if I'd waited until now to tell you how beautiful you are, you wouldn't have taken offense?" Alistair grinned at her slyly.

Eirwen groaned and hid her face against his shoulder.

"I still think you're being too hard on yourself. You've never been away from your clan before, there's a lot to figure out. The important thing is that you _are _figuring it out; you're not afraid to learn. So, what made you decide to accept Zevran's offer? Guilt?"

Eirwen chuckled, "Hardly." She shrugged, "I believed him. I don't particularly like what he is, but he _is_ honest about it."

"I suppose so," said Alistair, sounding unconvinced.

"He's never had a chance to be other than what he is."

"Do any of us?"

"We get to make choices. It didn't sound as if Zevran had ever had any choice about anything."

Alistair grinned, "So you felt sorry for him?"

Eirwen opened her mouth to protest but Alistair chuckled and continued, "I don't have a problem with that. I suspect he'd be appalled, which is fine by me."

Eirwen shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He reminds me of Tamlen a bit."

Alistair looked wary, "In what way?"

"It's hard to explain. Mostly his bare-faced cheek I think. Not that Tamlen would have flirted as outrageously as Zevran does, but he did have a striking belief in his own ability to charm his way out of trouble." She smiled, "He was absolutely incorrigible most of the time."

Alistair frowned, looking uncertain.

"What is it?"

"That night we talked, and you told me about Tamlen..." he stopped and looked at her hesitantly. "You said that he was like your brother but you implied that might have changed."

Eirwen smiled sadly. "I know now that it wouldn't have changed."

"Oh?" Alistair looked at her questioningly.

"He kissed me, a couple of days before we found that mirror," she stopped, blushing and ducking her head.

Gently Alistair pulled her chin up, his eyes dark. "And?"

"I didn't hate it but..." She took a deep breath. "It didn't make me feel the way I felt when you kissed me," she confessed.

"Good to know," said Alistair as he ducked his head and kissed her softly. Eirwen felt a jolt of desire flare through her, making her gasp.

Alistair chuckled throatily, "Sorry, I promised to behave like a gentleman."

"Don't you dare!" said Eirwen, running her fingers through his hair and pulling his head down. She kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip. He groaned and held her tightly against him. She felt his lips part and darted her tongue into his mouth. Hooking her leg over his, she wriggled her way onto his lap. Alistair shuddered and plunged his tongue into her mouth, running his hands all the way down her back until they cupped her backside.

Trembling, Eirwen pulled her head back, breaking the kiss. "Mmmmm, kissing Tamlen was definitely nothing like this," she told him, laughing shakily.

Alistair grinned self-consciously, blushing. "We should go back," he said, huskily. "The others will start to worry and the last thing we need is a search party finding us."

Eirwen giggled.

"Wynne would probably challenge you to a duel, to defend my honour," joked Alistair.

Reluctantly, Eirwen pulled herself off his lap and Alistair stood up. Hand in hand they made their way back to the camp.

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_Thanks to WellspringCD for cleaning this up._


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N I just happened to be listening to Juan Martin playing Adio Querido (From Musica Alhambra) as I started to write this chapter and I could imagine Leliana playing it in the camp, humming the woodwind parts. If you'd like to listen to it, you can find it at http:(slash slash)www(dot)we7(dot)com/song/Juan-Martin/Adio-Querida?m=0_

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Eirwen leaned against Alistair, her eyes heavy; they sat near the camp fire along with Sten and Leliana. The night was clear and cold, the heat from the fire welcome. Leliana played a small guitar, humming softly. The soft music was soothing and hypnotic; even Sten was drawn in by it, not having made his usual early retreat to his tent. Eirwen felt her eyelids droop and stifled a yawn. The yawn proved to be infectious. Within moments, the other three were yawning too.

Leliana stood with a smile, "I'm going to turn in, good night." Her companions muttered their farewells as she disappeared into her tent. Following her example, Sten stood abruptly.

"Good night," he said stiffly and before Alistair or Eirwen could respond, he too vanished into his tent.

Eirwen straightened and stretched. "Good night, Lethallin," she said softly.

"Good night, Eirwen." He reached out and cupped her face in his hand and leaned forward, kissing her softly. He felt, rather than heard, her sigh as he withdrew. Eirwen stood, briefly pressing her hand on his shoulder, and made her way to her tent.

Once inside her tent, Eirwen rooted around in her pack for her shift and swiftly undressed. The air in her tent was cool after the warmth of the fire and she scuttled onto her bedroll, wrapping herself up in her blanket. The drop in temperature had banished her drowsiness; she squirmed irritably and curled herself up into a little ball trying to recapture the warm drowsiness that had driven her to her tent. As was usual lately, her thoughts strayed to Alistair. She sighed, her feelings a mixture of frustration and confusion.

The source of her frustration was easy to identify. Alistair; she wanted him so badly it almost hurt. She was sure that, for all his blushing and uncertainty, he wanted her too. The source of her confusion was also no mystery; this _courting_ that Alistair insisted on. While there was an obvious solution to the first issue, she knew it was unlikely to happen until she had successfully navigated the second. She ground her teeth, in vexation. She truly didn't fully understand this whole courting business. Alistair seemed to think it was a prelude to physical intimacy, but the very idea baffled her.

Eirwen sat up slightly, plumped her pillow, then turned over and settled herself again. She toyed with the idea of explaining the Dalish way of "getting to know each other" to Alistair. She couldn't stifle the slight feeling of superiority that arose as she considered that, for the Dalish, physical intimacy was _part_ of getting to know each other. She snorted softly to herself. _How do humans know if they are well-suited if they do not lie together?_ She shuddered slightly, wondering if there was some ulterior motive for Alistair being so evasive, in spite of his obvious desire. _Maybe he has some kind of...defect?_ Her mind wandered back to the night she had massaged his shoulders for him. She had quite clearly felt his erection through his breeches as she sat on his lap so _that_ wasn't the problem.

Remembering that night sparked a small fire in her loins. She groaned in frustration, flopping on to her back, trying to ignore her growing arousal. _How long does this courting last? How do we know when it is __**time**__?_ She huffed crossly. If she was honest, the idea of setting a _time_ unnerved her. She would far prefer for it, _sex_, to happen spontaneously; as it would have done that night if Alistair hadn't backed off. She sighed wistfully; she could almost wish that Alistair had some of Zevran's obviously open approach to sex. _Well, not with __**everyone**__, but with __**me**__._ She didn't doubt that if she felt the same attraction for Zevran as she did for Alistair, her virginity wouldn't have lasted two minutes.

_This is ridiculous! I have to talk to him about this._ Coming to a decision she threw the blanket off her and crawled out of her tent. Getting to her feet, she paused and looked around. The camp was silent and, apart from Gelert snoozing by the campfire, no-one was around. She crept softly towards Alistair's tent and knelt in front of the flaps. _What if he's already alseep?_ She listened carefully and was surprised to hear a faint hum... of pleasure? She frowned at the small noise then, before she lost her nerve, whispered softly, "Alistair?"

Inside his tent, Alistair lay on his back. One arm was behind his head, his other hand grasped his erection, stroking slowly. It had become a nightly ritual (and sometimes a morning one) to hover on the edge of sleep, stroking himself as he replayed _that night_ in his head until he found his release. Savouring the memory, he recalled the feel of her breasts in his hands, her nipple in his mouth. "Mmmmmmm" he hummed softly to himself. Through the sleepy fog of pleasure he heard a noise that made him go rigid with shock.

"Alistair?"

He felt a swell of panic. Eirwen? Had she heard him? _Maker's breath!_

He sat up, pulling the drawstring of his thin cotton sleeping trousers tight.

"Eirwen? Is something wrong?"

"I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

"I...er..." He hesitated, pulling the blanket up and bunching it over his groin, to make sure it covered him. _Andraste's flaming sword! What if she can tell I was... while thinking about..._

Deciding that, as he was obviously awake the answer was affirmative, Eirwen unlaced the tent flaps and crawled in, turning to tie them again. Alistair almost groaned when he realised that she was clad only in her shift. He felt the heat rising in his face.

"What's the matter?" he asked, in as normal a voice as possible.

Eirwen turned to him and settled herself at his feet. "I need to talk to you. About...well... It's just... " She trailed off indistinctly, unsure how to put it now she was here with him. Her own uncertainty coupled with her knowledge of how bashful he could be had robbed her of her earlier conviction that she needed to talk to him.

Alistair was slightly alarmed at her lack of her usual assurance. "What's the matter?" he asked, trying to stifle his anxiety. _Is she trying to finish it? Has she fallen for the elf?_ His heart sank. "Look, just spit it out," he mumbled, not wanting to prolong the inevitable.

Eirwen took a deep breath. "I don't understand this courtship that you want," she blurted.

Alistair felt his spirit lift at her words and he almost laughed with relief. He allowed himself a small smile, "What don't you understand?"

He watched her as she shuffled and sighed, obviously trying to organise her words. In the dark he couldn't make out the expression on her face, but he could see the white fabric of the shift she wore. He found his mind straying to his earlier memories of what lay _under_ the shift and felt himself stir.

Eirwen fidgeted awkwardly. "I know what courting is... I think," she told him hesitantly, startling him out of his reverie.

"You think?" He caught the faint motion of her head in the dark as she nodded.

"The Kennel Master explained it. He said it was when two people... um... a man and a woman like each other and... er... get to know each other."

For a moment Alistair was baffled. _The Kennel Master? At Ostagar? Why on earth would he be explaining..._ Then he remembered.

_"Oh! The flower for the dog, I forgot all about it! The Shem that cares for the hounds asked me to look out for a plant he needs to treat one of them."_

_"For a moment there I thought that maybe you and the dog were courting."_

_"Courting? What is courting?"_

Alistair snorted with amusement, "Well, that about sums it up I suppose."

Eirwen growled in frustration. "But how is it different? What are the rules?"

Alistair shrugged, "There are no rules."

"But is _is_ different? From just ordinary 'getting to know each other' I mean. Otherwise, what is the point of it?"

"I suppose it is," Alistair conceded, dismayed as he realised he was going to have to try to explain how it was different. _Maker! Where do I start?_

"Why does it mean we can't lie together?" Eirwen asked bluntly, finally getting to the heart of what was actually bothering her.

Alistair was grateful for the dark as he felt himself blush. He struggled to formulate his feelings into words.

"Alistair?" Eirwen whispered softly, when no immediate reply was forthcoming.

He sighed deeply, then tried to express how he felt. "The Chantry teaches that men and women should only...," he took a deep breath. "Er...lie together within marriage."

"Marriage? Does that mean...?" He could hear the confusion in her voice.

"What? No!" Alistair's shocked protestation was uttered before he could stop it.

For a moment Eirwen didn't know whether to be offended or amused at his vehement denial. "Then why...?"

He groaned, then tried again. "Look, I'm not that religious but I was brought up to believe that... that kind of... intimacy was only a part of a very special relationship, not something casual."

Eirwen considered his words carefully. "I see, I think. So this _courting_ is to... see if our relationship is... special?"

Alistair nodded, feeling slightly foolish, "I suppose it is."

Eirwen didn't dare to ask the question that flitted through her mind. _And when will you know?_ In the next instant another thought struck her and her heart plummeted. _What if you decide it isn't special?_ She was taken aback by how distressing she found that possibility. Trying to cover her feelings, she said "It's different to how we do things?"

"It is?" Alistair tried not to sound too curious. All he could think of, was how openly lascivious Zevran was. Then again, Zevran wasn't Dalish.

It was if Eirwen had read his mind. "We are not as... relaxed as Zevran about such things." Alistair could hear the grin in her voice. "However," she continued, "for the Dalish physical intimacy is part of getting to know each other."

"It is?" gasped Alistair, his voice hoarse as he allowed himself to ponder all the possibilities that opened up.

"Of course," she told him matter-of-factly. "When a couple Bond, it is for life. They need to be sure they are right for each other in _every_ way."

Alistair felt her stir at his feet. "That's not to say we all lie with each other that casually either, but when a two people feel a strong attraction they are at liberty to ... pursue it as far as they will. Maybe it becomes something more, maybe it doesn't." She shrugged.

Alistair felt torn. For all his Chantry-taught innocence, even he could see that he only had to say the word and Eirwen would join him in his bedroll. On the other hand, he had been raised to believe that sex wasn't just sex, it was _making love_; the physical expression of a deeply-held emotion. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Eirwen move. When he felt her hand on his chest he jumped at her touch and realised that she was now sitting back on her heels beside him.

He could feel the warmth of her body as she leaned in close and murmured huskily, "Of course, there are _degrees_ of intimacy."

"Degrees? There are?" croaked Alistair.

Eirwen moved so that she straddled his legs. Unconsciously Alistair's upper body backed away from her until she leaned forward and kissed him, her lips barely brushing his.

"MmmHmm." She pulled her head back slightly, as if gauging his reaction. "Maybe we could explore those without actually... ", she broke off unsure how far she could or should push him.

"Without actually... ?" Alistair asked doubtfully. "Is that even possible?" He stiffened, "How do you actually know?"

Eirwen chuckled quietly. "It wasn't uncommon for the older girls in the clan to... er... discuss their experiences amongst the younger ones." She paused, "I don't have much in the way of practical experience, but I have a pretty good idea of what is _possible_."

Alistair groaned; she had managed to load the word itself with _possibilities_. He recoiled as the full implication of her words struck him. "Wait a minute! Girls _talk_ about that kind of thing?" he asked incredulously.

Eirwen giggled, "Well of course they do. Don't boys?"

"Well yes, but ... " Alistair blushed as he recalled some of the crude discussions he had overheard amongst the older boys at the Chantry, not all of whom were destined to be Templars.

"So," Eirwen's husky voice pulled him back to the present, "maybe we should _explore_ what's possible?"

"Maybe we should," agreed Alistair throatily, as his arms went around her to pull her closer.

He felt her sigh with satisfaction as he kissed her; gently at first, then more forcefully. Eirwen put her arms around his neck and he shivered as she ran her hands lightly along his shoulders. Alistair gasped as teeth nipped at his lower lip, then gasped again as her tongue darted between his lips and nudged his own. Seemingly of their own accord, his hands roamed down her back and came to rest on her buttocks. She squirmed slightly under his hand and suddenly broke away from exploring his mouth. His breath caught as he felt her pull her shift off in one swift movement, his hands unexpectedly covering her bare skin.

Alistair growled and pulled her close to him, pressing her against his chest. He was heady from the sensation of so much skin. His hands roved over her back, then along her thighs as her own hands explored him with as much enthusiasm. He'd felt himself start to grow hard again as soon she kissed him and the sensation merely intensified once she removed her shift. The ache in his groin was almost unbearable. Grasping her backside he pulled her so that she covered his erection, then he moved one hand up to cup her breast. Eirwen arched against him, gasping, as he ran a callused thumb over her nipple. She was achingly aware of his erection under her sex and rocked her hips slightly.

Still fondling her breast with one hand, Alistair ran his other hand over her hip and towards her thigh. He felt her shudder as his hand moved up her thigh. As his hand moved higher, Eirwen lifted herself off his lap so that she was kneeling. It was too dark to see her face but he could feel the _wanting_ in her. Suddenly hesitant about this previously unexplored territory, he dipped his head to her other breast. Her whimper emboldened him and he tentatively raised the hand on her thigh higher. She whimpered again, Alistair could hear the plea in it. Cautiously he explored her sex with gentle fingers. It was completely unexpected, although he had no clear idea of _what_ to expect. He hummed with pleasure as his fingers encountered folds, soft and moist. His fingers found a small nub and brushed his fingers over it. Alistair was startled by the intensity of Eirwen's reaction to his discovery; she moaned loudly and thrust frantically against his hand, then mewed with... disappointment? as his fingers moved away.

Encouraged, Alistair moved his fingers back to the small nub he'd found. He caressed it, gently at first, then more firmly, incited by her enthusiastic response. Eirwen thrust her pelvis against his hand as he moved his fingers and together they found a rhythm. He dropped his hand from her breast to her hip, occasionally moving it to clasp her buttock. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her head thrown back slightly. He released the small, hard nipple he had been suckling and raised his head, covering her open mouth with his own. Their tongues danced around each other. Eirwen moaned into his mouth and the rocking of her pelvis became more urgent. He could feel her legs starting to tremble at each side of his own thighs. Alistair recognised the signs, similar to his own release, and pressed the nub under his fingers harder.

Suddenly Eirwen stiffened and cried out as her orgasm swept over her. Alistair started to move his hand and was a little disconcerted when she whimpered and grabbed his hand, pressing it hard against her. He could feel her pulsing against his fingers and smiled to himself in the dark. Gradually Eirwen slumped against him and he felt her legs relax as she lowered herself back on to his lap. This time she didn't protest as he removed his hand. Releasing him, she pulled his head down for a slow, languorous kiss.

Alistair felt intensely gratified at having pleasured her so successfully, then groaned as he felt her body sink on to his erection. His intense concentration on _her_ pleasure had briefly eclipsed his own discomfort. He was puzzled when Eirwen lifted herself briefly off his lap. He almost stopped breathing when he felt her pull back the blanket and then tug at the drawstring of the light cotton trousers he wore. Eirwen tugged the top of his trousers and lifted herself off his lap again.

"Off," she muttered.

Trying to ignore his sudden nervousness, Alistair lifted his bottom slightly off his bedroll and tugged down the thin cotton so that the waist rested at the top of his thighs.

"My turn to explore now," whispered Eirwen huskily. She tugged the trousers down until they were past his knees and Alistair kicked them off.

Eirwen shuffled back slightly then sat down on his legs. She leaned forwards and brushed her lips against his collarbone whilst her hands grazed over his chest. Alistair couldn't stop the loud groan that burst from him. Both lips and hands swept over his torso with a tantalisingly light touch. Her hands crept lower, skimming his belly, as her tongue explored a nipple. Her tongue sent desire coursing through him and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting. Eirwen lifted her head briefly to move her head so that she could explore his other nipple. As she nipped it gently between her teeth, her fingers found his erection. The dual sensations were almost an exquisite torture and Alistair hissed loudly, struggling to control himself.

Eirwen curled her hand around his length and slowly started to stroke him. Alistair clutched his bedroll, not daring to move a muscle. Eirwen felt him twitch in her hand and his hips bucked convulsively. Slowly she ran her hand up his length, then lightly rubbed her thumb over the head; surprised at how silky it felt. Her thumb found the drops of moisture at the tip and she circled her thumb, spreading them. She heard Alistair's breath hitch, then come in ragged gasps. She smiled to herself, remembering some of the things the older girls had whispered about and shifted slightly. Alistair almost groaned with relief when her mouth left his nipple only to give a strangled moan when he felt her tongue lave the underside of his shaft, up towards the head. Her hand grasped him around his base and pumped as her tongue swirled over him.

"Eirwen," he croaked, "I don't think I can..." He stopped, unable to continue, as he felt her mouth slip over him, enclosing his head. Unable to control himself, he thrust his hips up and exploded in her mouth. Taken aback by the force of his reaction, Eirwen gagged slightly as he propelled himself into her mouth, hot, peppery fluid washing over her tongue. She swallowed quickly, grimacing slightly at the taste. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, just unexpected somehow.

Alistair trembled violently, then pulled back from her mouth and slumped backwards.

"Maker, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to... "

Eirwen scooted up the bedroll and laid her head on his shoulder. "Sssh! You didn't do anything wrong," she reassured him. She extended an arm across his body and squeezed him gently.

Alistair folded his arms around her and hugged her close. He felt rather than heard her giggle.

"What?" he asked her.

"I think that having discovered some _possibilities_, we definitely ought to _explore_ them further."

"Maker's breath! You'll be the death of me woman!"

"Oh, not now," Eirwen yawned sleepily. "But soon," she murmured, snuggling against him.

Alistair raised himself to grab the blanket, pulling it over them both. "That sounds like a great plan, Fearless Leader," he told her, kissing the top of her head.

Alistair lay in the dark, listening to Eirwen's breathing slow as she fell asleep, savouring the feel of her naked body pressed against his own. Moments later he followed her into the fade to dream.

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_Much gratitude to WellspringCD for her usual thorough job beta reading this chapter._


	18. Chapter 18

Eirwen drifted slowly out of sleep. It took her a second to remember where she was. Alistair lay sprawled on his back, one arm flung out wide; his other arm cradling her against him. The pitch-dark of the night had diminished slightly and she peered at him through the gloom. He appeared to be fast asleep. She was struck by how young and peaceful he looked. She smiled to herself; she was almost tempted to wake him up. _We could maybe explore more possibilities. _A delicious shiver ran through her at the thought.

On the other hand, it was starting to get light. It would probably be best if she slipped back to her own tent before the others awoke. She flushed at the thought of being seen emerging from Alistair's tent. As carefully as she could, she slipped free of Alistair's arm and sat up, looking for her discarded shift. It took her a moment to find it and she fumbled with it, trying to get it the right way round in the dim light, before pulling it over her head.

At her side, Alistair stirred and she felt his hand, warm, on her back.

"Good morning," he murmured sleepily. Eirwen turned to him smiling. His eyes were half-closed and his lips formed a lazy smile.

"Good morning, Lethallin," she greeted him softly.

Alistair grinned broadly and opened his eyes properly. _Lethallin. I never get tired of hearing that._

"I hope you weren't going to sneak out without waking me?" he asked teasingly.

Eirwen looked slightly abashed, "You looked to be fast asleep; I didn't want to disturb you."

Alistair raised the back of his hand to his forehead and sighed theatrically. "Used and then tossed aside. Just a beautiful woman's plaything. " He arranged his face into what, he hoped, was a tragic look.

Eirwen giggled and leaned over him. "It's a hard life, for an ex-almost-Templar," she told him, brushing her lips against his.

Alistair caught her in his arms, giving her a long, languid kiss. Eirwen stretched against him with a little purr of pleasure.

He nibbled at her lips. "Mmmmm, this... is... a wonderful... way to... wake up." Alistair drew his head back and looked at her, smiling slyly. "You don't have to go just yet, do you?"

Eirwen grinned impishly, "Not at all."

Alistair's smile widened and he moved to kiss her again until she continued.

"Assuming you don't mind our companions seeing me leave your tent in my shift."

Alistair sat up at abruptly, setting her firmly at arm's length, shuddering. "Maker! You might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water over me."

Eirwen tried not to giggle at his reaction.

"Can you imagine the comments? Leliana, Morrigan... _Zevran_!" He groaned.

"Indeed," agreed Eirwen with a smile. She leaned towards him giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you later," and with that she turned and scooted out of his tent.

* * *

The group had got an early start and were nearing Redcliffe. Eirwen was aware of a change in Alistair's demeanour throughout the morning. He had started the day with bashful, knowing smiles but as they got closer to Redcliffe she felt him withdraw into himself. They crested a hill to find Redcliffe laid out below them. Eirwen cast a surreptitious glance at Alistair; she could sense the tension mounting in him.

As if he'd caught her glance, he said, "Can we talk for a moment? In private?"

Eirwen nodded; turning to the others she told them, "I need to talk to Alistair. Carry on down to the bridge and we'll catch you up there." Ignoring the openly curious looks from her fellows, she moved to the side of the track, gesturing for Alistair to follow.

Alistair waited until he judged the party was out of earshot, then cleared his throat nervously. "I, ah, should probably have told you earlier."

Eirwen cocked her head to one side, curious. "What's on your mind?"

Alistair looked uncomfortable. "I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in?"

Eirwen nodded and waited for him to continue.

"The reason he did that was because..." Alistair looked away and took a deep breath. "Well, because my father was King Maric," he blurted, the words tumbling out of him all in a rush. He looked back at her trying to judge how she was taking his announcement. _Maker's breath! She's got that __**look**__ again._ "Which made King Cailan my...half-brother, I suppose." He saw a little frown appear on her brow.

Alistair grew increasingly nervous as Eirwen stood there just frowning.

"Does that make you the heir to the throne?" she eventually asked him.

Alistair felt his heart almost stop. "Maker's breath, I hope not!" he burst out. He paused, thinking about it. "I don't think so...you don't think so, do you?" he asked anxiously, breaking out in a cold sweat. "I'm a bastard, and no-one even knows about me."

Eirwen watched him carefully. She wasn't sure if he was reassuring her or trying to reassure himself.

Alistair smiled at Eirwen nervously. "I would have told you, but...it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me secret. I've never really talked about it to anyone." A flash of anger passed across his face, "Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me..." Alistair sighed, "Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it." He ran his hand through his hair, looking slightly sheepish, "I didn't want you to know for as long as possible. I'm sorry."

Eirwen gazed up at him thoughtfully, "Does Loghain know?"

Alistair shrugged, "Why wouldn't he? He was King Maric's best friend. I don't know if that means anything though. I certainly never considered the idea that it might ever be important." He shrugged again, "At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it." He slumped slightly, the tension in him easing now he had told her.

Alistair saw the puzzled little frown appear again.

"Why tell me then? Why do I need to know?" Eirwen asked him.

"Because it will probably come up. I didn't want to walk into Redcliffe without you knowing the truth, it would be just...awkward," Alistair explained, flushing. He saw Eirwen's eyebrow shoot up. "I have no illusions about my status, however," he hurried on. "It's always been made very clear that I'm a commoner and now a Grey Warden and in _no_ way in line for the throne." He shook his head emphatically. "And that's fine by me," he grinned at her. "No, if there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of Royal blood, but he is Cailan's uncle... and more importantly, very popular with the people." Alistair frowned, "Though... if he's really as sick as we've heard..." Alistair shook himself, "No, I don't want to think about that. I really don't."

Alistair stopped, waiting for some response from Eirwen. He wished she wouldn't stand there so quietly, just looking at him. He babbled on, wanting to fill the silence.

"So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm just some...nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens."

He was startled, when his words provoked some other emotion to flash across Eirwen's face.

"That's not what you really think, is it?" she demanded fiercely.

Well... no." He couldn't help smiling at her, "What I really think is that I was lucky enough to survive with you."

Eirwen's face softened and he saw her lips twitch. Alistair grinned, feeling relieved and, somehow, ridiculously pleased with himself. Until she frowned.

Alistair swallowed nervously. "Wh-what?" he asked, trying not to squeak.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me this before," she said, watching his face carefully.

Alistair felt his colour rising under her close scrutiny. Striving to appear nonchalant, he shrugged. "L-like I said, it's not really important."

"But it _is_ important enough that I need to know about it before we enter Redcliffe." She paused, thinking. "If we weren't here, you wouldn't have told me at all, would you?" Alistair could hear the note of accusation in her voice.

"So," continued Eirwen, carefully assembling a passive expression, trying to hide the hurt that was starting to prick. "Either it _is_ more significant than you're making out and you didn't trust me to know before I absolutely had to or... ?

Alistair gulped as her eyebrow went up. He'd seen the mask she'd so often worn come down over her face. Frankly, it horrified him. He realised that his blossoming relationship with Eirwen could fail right here. Seizing his courage, he took a deep breath and tried to explain.

"People change when they know," he told her.

"Change?"

Alistair nodded. "All they hear is King Maric...blah blah blah... Royal... blah blah blah. They treat me differently. It's not the sort of thing you can blurt out when you first meet people. I'm the Royal Family's dirty secret," he laughed bitterly.

Eirwen nodded slightly, "I can see that," she agreed, then frowned again. "But still, why wait until now to tell _me_?"

He sighed. "It just never seemed to come up. We were always talking about something else or..." he paused, blushing with a coy grin, "_Doing_ something else."

Alistair studied her face anxiously as he watched her considering what he'd told her. Abruptly she nodded, her lips twitching in a small smile.

Her smile broadened as she told him, "I won't treat you any differently. You're just another Shem to me, you know."

He grinned back at her, "Good to know."

Relieved, he turned and headed down towards the bridge, where the others waited for them. Following behind, Eirwen noted that all his tension had gone and he held his head high.

They rejoined their companions at the bridge and found them talking to an agitated young man. Eirwen suppressed a flash of irritation as he related how nocturnal incursions of monsters had plagued Redcliffe for the previous few nights. The man's distress was plain to see and his agitation understandable, if what he was telling them was true. He offered to take them down into the village to see someone called Bann Teagan. The name meant nothing to Eirwen, however Alistair's face lit up and he exclaimed with obvious pleasure. Reassured by Alistair's reaction, Eirwen asked the young man to lead them down into Redcliffe and gestured to her companions to follow.

They were led into the Chantry which was crowded with people. Eirwen paused, looking about her. There were women, children and the elderly crammed into the building. Babies cried fractiously, whilst anxious mothers tried to soothe them. The air of restrained panic was almost palpable. For a moment, Eirwen felt slightly overwhelmed by the crush and the close atmosphere, but then she felt a touch at her elbow. She looked up to see Alistair nodding towards the front of the Chantry. She followed his gesture and spied an imposing-looking man talking to the young man who had led them in. He wore an air of easy authority.

"That's Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon's younger brother," Alistair told her.

Bracing herself against the hubbub in the Chantry, Eirwen set off towards the Bann, with Alistair following quick on her heels. Alistair made brief introductions and when the Bann realised who Alistair was, it was clear he was delighted to see him again. Wasting few words, Bann Teagan explained the trouble that had befallen Redcliffe. There wasn't much more he could tell them that they hadn't already learned from the young man at the bridge. He looked relieved, but slightly taken aback, when Eirwen readily agreed to assist.

For his part, Bann Teagan didn't know quite what to make of the exotic-looking Warden, Eirwen, who accompanied Alistair. He was used to seeing elves of course, but he'd never seen one like this woman. Her hair was shaved close to her head, giving her a severe appearance. A vivid tattoo swirled across her brow and down her nose, unlike anything he'd ever seen before. In addition, she was armed to the teeth. As he explained Redcliffe's situation to the Wardens, Alistair nodded and fidgeted but the woman was completely still; her large eyes cool and appraising.

The Elven woman was so impassive, so hard to read, that he was almost convinced she was going to turn her party around and lead them straight back out of Redcliffe. When she murmured her offer of aid, with no conditions attached at all, he was both relieved and almost surprised beyond words. He saw her eyebrow shoot up at his reaction and struggled not to wince. Mentally chiding himself for his lack of self-possession, he gathered himself enough to thank her as gracefully as he could, suggesting that she co-ordinate her efforts with the local Mayor, Murdock.

Alistair's pleasure was written all over his open, honest face. Bann Teagan tried not to smirk. _The lad's completely besotted with her._ There were others in their group that were obviously not so pleased. The huge, dark-skinned warrior scowled, muttering, and the dark-haired woman in the unusual clothing, sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. He noted that Eirwen completely ignored their reactions, pausing only to smile briefly at Alistair. Although fleeting, the smile completely transformed her and for an instant Teagan could see why Alistair was so taken with her.

"Can we leave our packs in here?" Eirwen asked.

Teagan gestured to a side-chapel. "They should be safe enough in there."

Eirwen nodded and held her hand out to Alistair. He handed her his pack, staying to chat briefly with Bann Teagan while the others deposited their belongings. As the group moved to the doorway, Alistair made to follow them only to be waved back by Eirwen, "You have a lot to catch up on, come and find us in a little while."

The two men watched as Eirwen led her group out of the Chantry, pausing only to speak briefly with a distressed young woman near the door.

As the Chantry door closed behind the group, Teagan turned to Alistair, "An interesting young woman, your fellow Warden. Dalish?"

Alistair nodded, "Yes. I'd never met a Dalish elf before I met Eirwen."

"Indeed. Me neither, although one hears stories of course. I would have expected her to be more... adverse to helping us with our problems."

Alistair grinned, "She's mellowed somewhat."

Teagan smiled, "They have a reputation for being proud, I believe, and usually treat humans with suspicion. She's remarkably self-possessed for someone so young and in what must be a strange environment."

Alistair chuckled, "Unnerving isn't it? I noticed you got _the eyebrow_."

The Bann laughed.

Alistair intoned in a deep voice, "_The eyebrow of doom_," then continued "it makes me feel like a naughty five year-old when I get it."

Teagan grinned, "And do you inspire the eyebrow often?"

"Less often than I used to," replied Alistair with obvious relief.

A servant appeared at their side, murmuring about lunch and gestured to a small table set to one side.

"Will you join me, Alistair?"

Alistair looked uncertain and glanced at the doorway hesitantly.

"Are you worrying about incurring the eyebrow of doom?" teased Teagan.

Alistair flushed slightly, then shrugged, "I suppose she knows where I am if she needs me. The residents of Redcliffe should be safe provided no-one calls her a 'knife ear'."

Teagan frowned as the two men seated themselves. "I would be disappointed if she encountered such bigotry here in Redcliffe. Does it happen often?"

"Occasionally," Alistair told him. "Although possibly less often than you might think. The large bow and wicked-looking daggers tend to make people a little more cautious in their choice of words."

Teagan smiled, "I can imagine."

There was a lull in the conversation while the two men tucked into their lunch. Teagan stifled his surprise at just how much food Alistair managed to eat. The skinny, mud-covered urchin he remembered had grown into a large, powerful man but even so... Eventually Alistair pushed his plate to one side and they each settled with a flagon of small beer.

"So, tell me, is it right that you and Eirwen are all that's left of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden?" asked Teagan, feeling a pang of guilt at having asked the question when he saw the misery flare in Alistair's face.

Alistair nodded, "We were the only Wardens to survive Ostagar; the others all died with the King."

Teagan hesitated, "You know that Loghain accused the Grey Wardens of betraying Cailan?"

Alistair's face darkened. "That is a vicious lie!"

Teagan held his hands up. "I didn't say I believed it," he assured Alistair hastily, "I just wasn't sure if you knew the story he's putting about."

Alistair sighed, "We know about it," he growled.

"What are your plans?"

Alistair ran his hand over his face, almost as if trying to rub away the surge of anger he'd felt at hearing Loghain's slander repeated. "In a nutshell, defeat the Archdemon and stop the Blight."

Alistair grinned as Bann Teagan choked on his ale. "We have treaties," he explained. He counted them off on his fingers, "The Circle, the Dwarves and the Dalish. We already have a promise of aid from the Circle." He hesitated, "We'd also hoped that Arl Eamon would give us his support."

Teagan sighed, "I'm doing what I can on Eamon's behalf, but I don't have that authority." He looked apologetically at Alistair, "That's not to say that Eamon wouldn't back you, but it would mean open civil war and I don't think I can make that decision."

"Loghain will have nothing to rule if the Blight isn't stopped," Alistair told Teagan solemnly. "Just how sick is the Arl?"

The Bann didn't even try to hide his worry from Alistair. "Very sick indeed. He's comatose and there seems to be no way to rouse him. Maker knows we've tried everything we can think of. The healers are at a loss to explain it."

"We ran into Ser Donall in Lothering. He mentioned something about the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

Teagan groaned. "Isolde has got it into her head that finding the Urn would save Eamon." He snorted derisively, "Maker! No-one knows for sure if it even exists, never mind where it might be found. We're besieged by ghouls and a Blight is virtually knocking on our door and she has most of our best knights running around Ferelden on a wild goose chase." He stopped, slightly embarrassed at his outburst. "I'm sorry. You have enough on your plate to worry about. Did Ser Donall say if he'd be returning soon?"

"He said he was going to try and find some scholar I think, but I'm afraid I didn't catch the details," Alistair told him.

Teagan sighed, "We're struggling to defend Redcliffe now, how are we going to defend it against the Blight if... when it comes."

Alistair shook his head, "Don't even try."

Teagan looked startled, "You can't mean... "

"If the Darkspawn horde turns this way before Eirwen's managed to assemble an army, your only hope is to evacuate. I'd suggest head North, then into Orlais."

Teagan's face was ashen and Alistair tried to reassure him, "Look, it probably won't come to that. Most of the horde is still in the Kocari Wilds and there's been no sign of the Archdemon yet, which is a good sign. I think." He hurried on, "At least it gives us some time to visit Orzammar and track down the Dalish."

Teagan was touched by the younger man's clumsy attempt to offer some comfort. He sipped his beer thoughtfully. "What do you intend to do about Loghain?" He saw the anger flare in Alistair's eyes at the mention of the Teryn's name. "It would be much easier to fight the horde with a united army. This is the worst time to have a civil war."

Alistair sighed, "That's why we could really use Eamon's help. Not just the men he could supply, but his knowledge of politics." He took a deep draught of his beer then growled darkly, "I know that one of these days I'm going to take Loghain's head off his shoulders for what he did at Ostagar."

Teagan wavered for a moment before asking, "What exactly happened at Ostagar?"

Alistair hung his head then drained the last of his beer. "Loghain was supposed to reinforce the King at a pre-arranged signal; once the king's troops had engaged the Darkspawn. Duncan and the other Wardens were fighting with the King; Eirwen and I were to light the signal beacon for Loghain's troops." He stopped, lost in thought as he recalled their fight to the top of the tower. Recollecting himself, he took a deep breath and continued, "Anyway, when we got to the signal tower it was overrun with Darkspawn. We had to fight our way to the top, kill a bloody _ogre_ and then when we lit the beacon, Loghain apparently turned his army around and marched them away."

"'Apparently'," asked Teagan?

"We didn't actually see them go," explained Alistair. "Darkspawn had followed us up the tower. I remember seeing Eirwen light the beacon, then all of a sudden there were arrows sticking out of her and... and she fell... " he faltered, his voice on the verge of breaking. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "... then everything went black. I don't even know what hit me." He smiled ruefully. "I woke up in an apostate's hut in the Wilds. I still have no idea how she got us off that tower. Loghain just _abandoned_ all those people to the Darkspawn and now tries to blame the Grey Wardens, saying they betrayed Cailan," spat Alistair angrily. He sighed sadly, "The Wardens were the nearest thing I ever had to a family. It was the first time I ever felt like I belonged anywhere and he destroyed it."

Teagan felt a rush of sympathy for the young Warden. His words stung slightly, but Teagan couldn't blame him for feeling like that.

Alistair must have seen something in his face as he suddenly looked embarrassed, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"There's no need to apologise. I can understand how... difficult things have been for you." Teagan paused, seeing Alistair's attention shift. Following Alistair's gaze he saw Eirwen walking towards them. He smiled to himself at the look of open adoration on Alistair's face as he rose from his chair.

Alistair turned to Teagan, grinning, "I'd better go. I don't want to incur the eyebrow of doom."

"Indeed," murmured Teagan as Alistair moved off to meet her.

* * *

_Many thanks to WellspringCD for beta reading this._


	19. Chapter 19

Eirwen swallowed her rising panic, struggling to keep her face blank. For a brief moment she considered indulging her desire to run away and just leave these Shems to solve their own problems. She took a slow, deep breath in an effort to calm herself. It wasn't enough that she and her group had spent the whole of yesterday afternoon preparing Redcliffe to fight; that she'd had to persuade, cajole and threaten the reluctant to stand alongside the volunteers to strengthen the defence of the village; that they'd fought non-stop for the greater part of the night until the last of the shambling undead had been cut down; that after only a few hours rest they had spent the greater part of _today_ fighting their way through the castle only to be confronted with _this_.

Tension and fatigue knotted her muscles and she knew that her colleagues had to be fighting the same exhaustion. There seemed to be no end to the nightmare that haunted Redcliffe. Eirwen scrutinised the Orlesian Arlessa in front of her and swallowed her irritation. The desire to slap the woman was fierce. _Spoiled, selfish, self-indulgent..._ Isolde fulfilled all of the pre-conceptions that Eirwen held about the Ferelden nobility, and humans in general, that she had been trying so hard to suppress for the past few weeks. Her companions had forced her to re-evaluate her ideas about humans over the last few weeks and here was the embodiment of all her prejudices.

This stupid Shem had been quite happy to send a ten year old Alistair to the Chantry, to sacrifice him to the Templars, yet when her own son showed signs of magic, she had deceived her husband and tried to hide his ability so that he wouldn't be sent to the Circle Tower. The double-standard disgusted Eirwen and she was struggling to hide it. This woman's deceit was at the bottom of all Redcliffe's ills. Thanks to her machinations her husband lay in a coma, her son was apparently possessed by a demon, and half the villagers of Redcliffe lay dead.

Eirwen sighed. Their most immediate problem was how to deal with her son, Connor. For now the demon had retreated and the boy had run off to hide. Eirwen didn't doubt the demon would soon take control again, and night was approaching. They had to find a solution and fast; they couldn't face another night like the last one.

She turned to address her companions, who leaned against the wall or stood with slumped shoulders, fighting to stay alert despite this seemingly endless nightmare.

"What are our options?" she asked quietly.

Alistair's voice was hesitant and thick with regret. "I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child but...," he faltered, then continued. "He's an abomination. I'm not sure there's any choice."

Eirwen's heart sank. The thought of killing the child was repugnant. Her anguish was increased when she heard Wynne reinforce Alistair's opinion.

"I do not like the thought of hurting the boy but... " Wynne's voice faded, unable to bring herself to say the words.

Teagan added his voice to theirs, she could hear his pain. "Connor is my nephew, but... he is also possessed by a demon. Death would be... merciful."

"No!" Isolde's protest cut through Eirwen like a knife. For all she detested the woman, it was clear by all her actions that she loved her son. Eirwen fought to conquer the pity she felt for Isolde, she couldn't afford to step into her shoes.

"Wh-what about the mage? He could know something of this demon! If he still lives, we could speak to him!" begged Isolde.

Eirwen had completely forgotten the mage she had left in his cell. She cursed herself, she was too tired for this; she needed to keep a clear head. Teagan was dispatched to bring the mage directly. She heard her companions shuffle restlessly behind her. No-one was willing to break the ominous silence, after all what could one say? Eirwen tried to relax her tense, aching muscles, staring at a point on the wall behind the Arlessa.

Presently Teagan rejoined them with the mage in tow.

"You're lucky to be alive Jowan, after all you've done," spat Isolde.

The sympathy that Eirwen had felt for her disappeared at those words. _He couldn't have done __**any**__ of it if you hadn't brought him here to deceive your husband and the Chantry, you stupid woman!_

The mage stumbled through his denial of summoning a demon but did confess to poisoning Arl Eamon, conceding that his actions had started the whole train of events and offering to help in any way he could. Eirwen didn't agree with his evaluation but tried to ignore her feelings. _We're here to try and find a solution to this, not apportion blame._

Jowan did agree that killing Connor was the easiest way to deal with the demon but then offered another solution.

"A mage could confront the Demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself," he told them.

Eirwen was torn between hope and irritation. _Why didn't Wynne or Morrigan suggest this?_ Jowan explain how the Demon was in the Fade, not in Connor, and said that he could send another mage into the Fade to fight the Demon. Suddenly this seemed like less of a solution. Eirwen knew that it would have to be either Wynne of Morrigan and she didn't understand how serious the danger might be; she didn't want to risk losing one of them. Finally, Jowan explained that he would have to use blood magic . His voice faltered as he informed them that the cost of sending another mage into the Fade would be a _life_.

Eirwen ground her teeth in frustration.

"It's... not much of an option," sighed Jowan, despondently.

"Someone's going to die, either way," sighed Eirwen.

"Indeed," agreed Isolde quietly. "Either my son or the sacrifice. Let it be me then. I will give my life for his."

Teagan, Alistair and Wynne protested. Teagan was horrified that Isolde would sacrifice her life for her son, protesting that her husband would forbid it if he were able. Alistair seemed to be more concerned that they were considering using blood magic. Wynne was suspicious of Jowan, unsure if he could be trusted.

Unexpectedly, Morrigan spoke up in favour. "It does seem like a sensible choice, with a willing participant."

Eirwen couldn't fault her reasoning.

"Connor is blameless in this. He should not have to pay the price," protested Isolde. Eirwen couldn't disagree with _her_ either.

"It's... it's up to you, my friend. You know much more about these things than I do," said Teagan.

Eirwen bit down a snort of derision. _Which isn't saying much._

"It's your companion going into the Fade. The decision is yours," he added.

Eirwen swallowed her bitter retort. _Isn't is always?_

Eirwen swung her gaze to the Arlessa. "Are you sure you are ready to die, Lady Isolde," she asked baldly, wanting to be sure the woman understood what she was offering.

Unflinching, Isolde met her gaze. Her voice was quiet but determined. "If there is even a chance to save Connor, I am."

Teagan was obviously unhappy and made a final attempt to dissuade her. "You rest your hopes on this young mage? He poisoned Eamon. He could take your life power and attack for all we know."

The Arlessa was resolute. "He would be a fool to try. No, I am willing to take his word. I will give my life for the chance to undo what I have done," countered Isolde.

Eirwen could only admire the woman she disliked so intensely. Reluctantly, Teagan gave in.

Eirwen turned to her companions. More as a gesture than a realistic hope, she asked, "Is there no other way to enter the Fade?" To her astonishment, Alistair spoke up.

"You could ask the Circle of Magi to assist. With Lyrium and more mages, they could send someone into the Fade."

It sounded like the perfect solution until she considered just how long it would take to get to the Tower and back. That was assuming they even agreed to help. The Circle of Magi had been almost decimated by Uldred's recent rebellion.

She shook her head. "That would take too much time." She looked across at Morrigan. "Would you be willing...?" Morrigan gave a curt nod of her head before she could even finish her question.

Eirwen squared her shoulders. "We let Jowan cast his ritual."

"Thank you," breathed Isolde. "If this will save my son then I am not afraid."

Morrigan stepped forwards to stand with Eirwen.

"You have my eternal gratitude. May the Maker go with you, Madam." Isolde told the witch. Morrigan huffed uncomfortably but held her tongue. Eirwen wasn't sure if she was embarrassed by the other woman's gratitude or being called 'Madam'.

"Let's get this started," suggested Jowan tentatively.

Eirwen turned to Alistair, not daring to meet his gaze. She knew he hated this, as did she. If she looked at him, she didn't know if she could continue.

"Alistair, would you take everyone outside please and wait for us there?" He stiffened and for a moment she thought he was going to protest, then her turned without a word and stalked out of the hall; the others followed him.

Eirwen turned to Teagan. "Maybe you should wait outside with Alistair?"

He shook his head tersely. "I'll stay," he grated through clenched teeth.

Behind them, Jowan had drawn an arcane symbol on the floor and was placing lit candles at various points around it. Eirwen, Morrigan and Teagan gravitated to various points around the symbol, all as far away from each other as possible. There was no comfort to be found during what was about to happen.

Gently, Jowan drew Isolde forwards so that she was standing on the symbol. The woman looked terrified. Eirwen desperately wanted to say something to comfort or reassure her but there were no words she could offer. She looked across at Teagan wondering if he had the same impulse. It was impossible to tell, his face was as frozen and immobile as her own.

Jowan started to incant quietly. Eirwen could see waves of power swirling around the Arlessa. The trembling woman dropped to her knees and started to pray. The blood mage's incantation grew louder and suddenly he roared. Isolde's body flew into the air, as if plucked up by an unseen hand, and she hung in the air. Eirwen heard her whimper, then was horrified to see blood seeping out of the woman's skin. It seemed as if every pore in the Arlessa's body leaked blood. In moments, her clothes were saturated with it, and it dripped thickly onto the floor. Faster and faster it came, quickly becoming a torrent, pooling under Isolde.

Across from her, Eirwen saw Morrigan's eyes widen, then the witch swayed and slumped to the floor as Isolde's lifeless body dropped into the pool of her life's blood beneath her. Eirwen glanced over at Teagan and saw the horror she felt reflected in his face. He briefly met her gaze then, by mutual consent, they both looked away.

Eirwen had no idea how much time passed before it was over. Jowan slumped tiredly and Morrigan stirred. Teagan and Eirwen reached the witch at the same time and helped her to her feet.

"'Tis done," she told them weakly, "The demon is dead."

Eirwen helped Morrigan to a chair whilst Teagan called for guards to escort Jowan back to his cell and for servants to come and remove the Arlessa's body. He ignored the servants' shocked exclamations and brusquely told them to take her to her room and lay her out, then clean up the Great Hall. Collecting himself somewhat, he beckoned another servant and spoke to her quietly. She nodded and disappeared.

He turned to Eirwen. "I've arranged for rooms to be prepared for you all. If you could settle your companion and then come and see me please?"

Eirwen nodded dumbly and he turned on his heel and left the Hall. Morrigan tried to wave her off as Eirwen helped her to her feet again but she could see that Morrigan was trembling with fatigue and ignored her protestations. In no time at all, Morrigan was fast asleep in a bed and Eirwen steeled herself to seek out Bann Teagan. _He must hate me. He thought I was here to help and I've allowed a blood mage to sacrifice his brother's wife._

A servant informed her that the Bann was in his brother's room and showed her to the Arl's room. She opened the door quietly and slipped into the room. Teagan stood with his face buried in his hands. Behind him she could see the Arl, quiet and motionless in his bed. She cleared her throat softly.

Teagan started and dropped his hands. "So, it is over." He indicated his nephew. "Connor is his old self. He doesn't seem to remember anything, which is a blessing."

Eirwen followed his gesture and saw the boy perusing a book case. Ignoring them both, Connor selected a book, then left the room.

There followed one of the most bizarre conversations Eirwen had ever had. She had expected accusations, blame; instead the Bann asked her what she thought he should do about Jowan. Eirwen was almost too tired to care but not to be irritated that still, even now, people wanted her to make decisions for them. After trying, and failing, to dodge taking any more responsibility, Eirwen suggested letting the Circle deal with him. She wanted no more blood on her hands. She was furious when, after all that, Teagan refused to take her advice, deciding to let his brother pronounce judgement when, if, he woke up. _Then why are we having this conversation?_

Teagan then turned the conversation to his brother, mentioning the Urn. Eirwen almost rolled her eyes. She wasn't sure which she wanted to do more; lie down and scream, weep or just sleep, but she was at the limits of her self-control. Vainly she tried to dissuade him but on and on he went, insisting on telling her about the scholar in Denerim who might know where the Urn was to be found.

"I'll find the Urn," she snapped at him, cutting him off.

Her waspishness startled Teagan into looking at her properly. He could see her fatigue and realised that she must be as distressed as he at witnessing the awful ritual downstairs.

"Come," he said, leading her out of the room and back downstairs. On the way down, he told her he'd had rooms prepared for all of them and invited them to stay for a few days to rest. If Eirwen hadn't been too tired for hysteria she would have laughed. _We've just killed his sister-in-law and he's inviting us to stay in her home!_

They reached the Great Hall. "I'll go and get the others," murmured Eirwen. She was rooted to the spot; she didn't know if she could face them; she didn't know if she could face _Alistair_. She knew he was violently opposed to blood magic; she hoped he understood why she had reached her decision.

"If you'd like a moment alone, you can sit in my brother's study. You won't be disturbed there," offered Teagan, noting her reluctance to rejoin her companions.

Eirwen nodded gratefully and followed him to a small room off the Great Hall. He closed the door behind her and she sank into the chair behind the desk, leaning her bow against it. She took a minute to compose herself, then picked up her bow and made to leave. As she did so, her bowstring caught on the knob of a drawer, pulling it out completely. The drawer crashed to the floor and tipped over, scattering its contents. As Eirwen hurriedly threw everything back into the drawer, she noticed a small pendant. It had obviously been broken and then repaired. She knew it for a symbol of Andraste's Flaming Sword, Leliana had a similar one and had told her what it was. _I wonder if..._ She smiled to herself and hurried off to find the others.

* * *

_Many thanks to WellspringCD, my beta reader, for proof-reading and guidance._


	20. Chapter 20

Eirwen found the others in the Castle's courtyard. She'd expected questions but they all just shuffled about, refusing to meet her eye. She sighed. "Bann Teagan's arranged accommodation for us in the Castle. You can all… " she broke off tiredly and gestured towards the door. She looked up and saw both Leliana and Wynne looking back at her, their eyes kind. Wynne opened her mouth to speak but Eirwen looked away. She didn't think she could cope with kindness, it would break her. She moved away from the steps, waiting for them all to go inside.

A hand grasped her arm roughly. "We need to talk. Now." _Alistair. _ She nodded and he dragged her across the courtyard. She stumbled after him, too dejected to protest. Eirwen found herself backed into a shady, secluded corner.

"What do you thing you were doing?" he yelled at her. Eirwen winced as he punctuated his words by shaking her arm. "You let lady Isolde _sacrifice_ herself," he raged, "With blood magic!" His disgust was plain. "How could you do that?"

Eirwen felt her own temper rising and twisted her arm out of his grip. "You think I should have killed the boy instead?" she shot back at him.

"We could have gone to the Circle of magi. W-we could have tried harder! We should have tried something that didn't involve blood magic, that's for sure!"

"Tried harder?" scoffed Eirwen. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you thought I was slacking, on top of everything else!" Her voice rose until she was shouting almost as loudly as Alistair. "As for the Circle, that was _never_ an option. It would have taken at least a week to get there and back. Just what do you think would have been left in Redcliffe by the time we got back?"

Alistair started to pace. "This is the Arl's _wife_ we're talking about here. What do you think he'll say when we revive him?" he yelled at her, gesticulating wildly. "I just don't know how you could _do_ it, how you could _make_ that decision. I owe the Arl more than this."

Eirwen gaped at him, she couldn't believe her ears. _He __**owes**__ him?_ Her fatigue was completely forgotten; she seethed with rage and clenched her fists in an effort to retain control of herself. She advanced on Alistair, her face white with anger, her tattoo stark against her pale skin. "Tell me," she spat at him, "just how big is this debt you owe him? It must be considerable considering the _care_ he lavished on you."

Alistair flinched. "That's not fair!"

"Fair? Allowing his mean-minded wife to bully and torment you wasn't _fair_. Sending you to sleep in a stable wasn't _fair_. Dumping you on the Chantry wasn't _fair_. I bet he treats his Mabari better than he treated you." Eirwen glared up at him.

Alistair flushed, her words finding their mark. He had buried his resentment deep. It stung to have her ruthlessly root it out and expose it like this. Feeling defensive, he lashed out at her in retaliation, twisting her words. "It's not like your upbringing was any better! Running wild in the woods like an animal. You can't even read!"

Eirwen eyes widened in surprise then laughed bitterly. "Is that _really_ what you think I'm trying to say?"

Alistair folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her stubbornly, feeling more than a little foolish but unwilling to give an inch.

She sighed and felt her anger subsiding. Fatigue washed over her and she swayed. All at once she felt too tired to argue; almost too tired to even speak. "I'm going to bed, Alistair. Good night." She turned and started to make her way, slightly unsteadily, across the courtyard. He watched as she suddenly stopped, digging in the little pouch she wore at her waist. She walked back over to him and grasped his hand, pulling it away from his chest.

"Here," she said, "I think this is yours." With that, she slipped something into his hand and walked away again. Puzzled he looked down at the object she had given him. It was hard and shone slightly in the dim light. He moved out into the courtyard, where the light was better and looked again. Unable to believe his eyes, he ran his finger reverently over the face of the amulet, tracing the tiny cracks in the surface. He gazed at it in awe. _My mother's amulet! How did she get…She remembered…_ Alistair slumped as the anger leeched out of him; his hand trembled and he closed his fingers around the amulet, lest he drop it. He lifted his head and looked round for her, intending to run after her, but she was gone.

Alistair tucked the amulet away under his breast plate. _Maker! I'm a bloody fool!_ He made his way across the courtyard and up the steps, continuing inside to the Great Hall. There was no sign of Eirwen and he had no idea which room Teagan might have put her in. _Will it look bad if I ask a servant? _He spotted a servant as the far end of the Hall but was waylaid by Teagan.

"Alistair, there you are. I was wondering where you'd got to." Teagan greeted him with an open smile.

Alistair managed to raise a small smile in return. "Have you seen Eirwen? I need to speak to her."

"You just missed her, she headed upstairs a minute ago. I had all your packs brought up from the Chantry; yours is over there." Teagan paused. "She's a very brave young woman. I fear I have asked more of her that I have any right to over the last two days."

Alistair nodded miserably. "Bann Teagan…do you think she made the right decision? This afternoon I mean."

Teagan sighed, "I think Alistair, that there was no right decision. However, a decision was required and Eirwen was the only one amongst us who dared to make it. I have no quarrel with the path she chose."

Alistair groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. "Maker's Breath, Teagan. I think I've just made a monumental arse out of myself."

Teagan coughed politely in an effort to hide his small smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Alistair growled in frustration. "Why does it have to be so… complicated?"

Teagan made a supreme effort to keep his amusement hidden. Alistair obviously had a good heart but he was so gauche and patently inexperienced. The debonair older man tried to remind himself that he too, once, had been inexperienced with women but he was fairly certain he had never been as inept as Alistair appeared to be.

"My father once told me 'never go to sleep on a quarrel'," he told Alistair. "It's proved to be good advice over the years. As luck would have it, I've arranged for you two Wardens to have the Blue Suite." He grinned at the younger man. "You remember where it is?"

Alistair nodded, "Th-thank you Bann Teagan." He grabbed his pack and headed towards the stairs.

Alistair found his way to the Blue Suite and hesitated outside the door. A servant passed him and gave him a quizzical look. Realising he looked foolish standing there, he opened it and stepped inside. The suite was as he remembered it from his childhood. It was little-used and he'd sometimes sneaked in here to hide. He was in a generously proportioned room that served as both sitting room and private dining room, if required, and it was furnished appropriately. As the name indicated it was decorated mostly in blue, although it was looking decidedly more faded than he remembered it. There were two bedrooms attached to the suite, one on each site of the sitting room. One door stood slightly open, the other was firmly closed. As quietly as he could, he crept over to the closed door and stood outside, listening. Hearing nothing, he crossed the room and headed into the other bedroom.

The colour theme continued in the bedroom. It contained a large bed, chest, and a dresser on which stood a basin and a ewer of water. Quickly, Alistair stripped off his armour and the padded tunic beneath it. He pulled off his shirt and was relieved to find the water was still warm. He washed and then put on a clean shirt. He looked at the bed longingly but remembered what Teagan had said; 'never go to sleep on a quarrel'. Alistair started to pick up his armour from the floor when something fell out; his mother's amulet. Smiling, he let the armour drop and put the amulet on. Grasping it briefly, he headed towards Eirwen's door and knocked softly.

There was no reply. He was momentarily torn by indecision, then seized his courage and opened the door. He peered in and smiled. Eirwen's armour was scattered over the floor; her pack was tossed against a wall, her weapons beside it. She appeared to be on the bed, rather than in it; curled up in a little ball, wrapped up tightly in a blanket. The only part of her that was visible was the very top of her head. He remembered watching her sleep in the Circle Tower. _Like a dormouse._

He crossed the room to the far side of the bed and crouched down. The blanket was pulled up so high he couldn't see her face. Gingerly, he hooked a finger over the edge of the blanket and pulled it down. Although asleep, a little frown creased a furrow at the top of her nose. Unable to resist, he traced a finger down the tattoo on her nose. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly as she dragged herself out of sleep. He saw the fleeting confusion in her eyes, swiftly followed by misery; her eyes shone with tears. Guilt and self disgust washed over him as a solitary tear escaped and rolled down the side if her nose. He placed his hand against her cheek and brushed it away with his thumb.

Leaning forwards, he kissed her softly on her forehead, where the little frown lay.

She shifted slightly, "Alistair, I-I… "

"Ssssh," he soothed. "Eirwen… " Alistair's voice was thick with emotion. "I've been a complete fool. I have no right to ask, but can you forgive me."

"Of course I can, Lethallin."

He leaned his brow against hers, " I don't deserve… " he began.

Eirwen brought her hand up and laid her fingers on his lips. "Don't!" she protested.

Alistair blushed then kissed her fingers.

He grinned at her, "So tell me," he said softly, "Why are you sleeping on top of the bed, not in it?" He saw the tips of her ears flush.

"I-I've never… " she stopped, looking abashed. "I've never slept in a bed before. It looked so nice, I didn't want to spoil it."

Alistair ducked his head and closed his eyes, struggling not to laugh. He heard her snort in exasperation. He looked at her, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I could show you how it's done," he offered.

"You could," she agreed, her lips twitching in amusement.

Alistair stood and pulled the blanket off her. He scooped her up and pulled back the covers, dropping her gently into the bed and drawing the covers over her. He moved swiftly to the other side of the bed and pulled off the clean shirt he'd just put on, then his leggings. He twitched the cover aside and slid between the sheets. He extended his arm and Eirwen scooted across and snuggled up to him. In moments they were both fast asleep.

When Eirwen woke it was dark. At some point she had rolled onto her side; Alistair had followed her and lay curled around her back. She stretched and then snuggled back against Alistair, savouring his warmth.

Behind her Alistair stirred. "Mmmmm, this is nice," he mumbled into the back of her head.

Eirwen smiled and turned over to face him. She cupped his face and kissed him softly.

"Mmmmm, very nice indeed." He pressed her tight against him.

Eirwen resisted arching against him, as much as she wanted to. They had fallen asleep before they could talk properly. She felt very strongly that there were things she needed to talk to him about; things that might not come up again if she didn't seize her chance.

"Alistair..." she tried to pull away slightly.

"Hmmm?" Alistair held her easily, not wanting to let her move away.

"Earlier... was it really blood magic you were upset about, or... about you and Arl Eamon?"

He sighed and rolled onto his back; one arm stayed wrapped around her, he flung the other up over his face. "You're right I suppose. I mean about the Arl. I just feel like we've... I mean _I've_... let him down."

Eirwen nodded and nestled against him, stroking his chest. "You feel beholden to him." It was a statement, not a question.

"Well yes. Look, I know you don't think much of him but... he _did_ give me a home and he wasn't unkind or anything. As much as I detested Isolde...I wouldn't have wished that on her." He paused thinking, then squeezed her. "I'm sorry you had to see that, it must have been horrible."

Eirwen shuddered as she remembered Isolde's death. They each lay quietly, lost in thought.

"What was it like?" Alistair asked her.

"Isolde's...? "

Alistair groaned, "Sorry no. I mean growing up in a clan."

Eirwen shrugged, unsure how to describe it. "I suppose it's like being part of a very large family. Everyone looks out for each other." She giggled, "It makes getting into mischief very challenging."

Alistair chuckled. "So one big, happy family, eh?"

"I suppose it is. It felt very safe. Ashalle... even though I wasn't her own child, she never made me feel like I wasn't."

"She had children of her own?" asked Alistair.

Eirwen shook her head. "The man she was bonded to died shortly after their bonding. She rarely spoke of him, I think it was too painful; she was never interested in anyone else. She'd become close to my mother when she joined our clan and bonded with my father. Then she cared for my mother after my father died and when my mother left... " Eirwen stiffened, bracing herself against the hurt that flared.

Alistair shifted slightly to lie on his side so that he could look at Eirwen. Her eyes sparkled with tears and she caught his gaze, then looked away, embarrassed.

"What?" he asked her softly.

She shut her eyes tightly, willing the tears away.

"Eirwen?"

She shook her head. "It's silly."

"What's silly?"

"That it feels so... hurtful. That she left... my mother I mean. That I wasn't enough to make her want to stay. I mean, it's not like I even really knew her," she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear the words.

Alistair wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. "It's not silly at all," he assured her, resting his cheek against the stop of her head.

His voice thickened with emotion. "I felt much the same way when Eamon sent me away to the Chantry."

Eirwen ran her hand up his chest and brushed against the amulet. She pulled back to look at it. "So it was... ?"

Alistair looked down, then smiled, nodding. "My mother's amulet. Where on earth did you find it?"

"The Arl's study. Teagan put me in there after... Anyway, I got my bow string caught in a drawer knob and everything fell out. It must have been in the drawer."

His smile faded and he regarded he carefully,"I can't believe you remembered," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "I'm not used to people listening when I talk." He blushed self-consciously.

Eirwen tilted her head towards him and brushed her lips against his. "Then maybe you should start getting used to it," she told him with a grin.

Alistair smiled. "I can't believe he put it back together and kept it all these years. I wonder why he did that?"

Eirwen shrugged, "I suppose he intended to give it back to you at some point."

"Maybe." Alistair pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply. Then his stomach growled loudly.

Alistair broke the kiss, groaning with embarrassment. "Oh, that was romantic!"

Eirwen giggled, then flushed as her own stomach growled too.

Alistair grinned at her. "Do you think it's some sort of Grey Warden mating call?" he asked her wryly. Eirwen sniggered and he blushed furiously as he realised what he'd said. "I mean..er...I..."

"Maybe we should go and find something to eat?"

"That sounds like a great idea, Fearless Leader. If there's no-one up, I know my way to the pantry. I'm so hungry I could eat an ogre!" He kissed her swiftly and the slid out of the bed, stooping to gather his breeches and shirt. He blushed when Eirwen's eyes swept over him appreciatively. "I'll er...leave you to..." he waved his hand vaguely and turned and fled.

Eirwen washed, shuddering at the now-cold water, then dressed swiftly. She emerged into the small sitting room and stood quietly waiting for Alistair. In no time at all he joined her. Alistair had one hand hidden behind his back. Eirwen looked at him quizzically and he brought his hand forward, holding something out to her.

"Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?"

Eirwen looked, Alistair held out a flower, unlike any she'd ever seen before. It's petals were velvety and coloured a deep red.

"Um...it's a flower." She ran a finger over one of the petals. "It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it before." She flushed, suddenly remembering what the Kennel Master had told her at Ostagar.

_"I see. This involves flowers?"_

_"Well sometimes Miss...I mean Warden. Often the young man will give the young lady a flower as a token of his affection."_

Alistair smiled, "It's a rose," he told her. "I picked it in Lothering." His voice softened. "I remember thinking 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?'"

He shrugged. "I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The Darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it."

He grinned, looking a little sheepish. "I've had it ever since."

Eirwen smiled up at him. "I'm glad you didn't leave it there."

Alistair shuffled and cleared his throat nervously. "I thought I might ... give it to you, actually."

He blushed. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you," he said huskily.

Eirwen felt her heart lurch. "Thank you, Lethallin," she breathed. She paused, feeling her face grow warm. "That's a lovely thought."

Alistair smiled bashfully. "I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking... here I am doing all this complaining and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy."

He stepped closer, catching her hand in his. "I wanted to tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness."

"I-I feel the same way about you, Lethallin," Eirwen told him, smiling shyly up at him.

Alistair's face lit up in a broad smile. He stepped back, taking a deep breath.

"I'm glad you like it. Now... if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it." He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows.

"I thought you were hungry," said Eirwen, looking up at him coyly.

"Oh I am! In more ways than you can know," he said suggestively. He gestured moved toward the door and opened it, standing aside to let her through. "First food, then...maybe we can _explore possibilities_."

* * *

_Thank you to WellspringCD for beta reading duty :)_


	21. Chapter 21

Alistair and Eirwen sat cross-legged on her bed, a large tray between them. Alistair had indeed remembered the way to the pantry and they'd helped themselves to bread, butter, cold meat and cheese. He'd also grabbed a stoppered jug from the floor of the pantry, grinning wickedly. Eirwen had led the way back to their suite, holding a candle aloft, while Alistair had followed behind, bearing the heavily- laden tray.

Eirwen sliced several thick slices off the load of bread, then slathered one with butter and laid a slice of ham on it. Alistair watched her, grinning, as she attacked it hungrily, then he lifted the jug, pulled the stopper free and sniffed at the jar. He smiled appreciatively. "Mmmmmm... Redcliffe cider. The best in Ferelden!" His eyes twinkled with mischief at her over the top of the jug.

"Cider?" asked Eirwen.

"Made from apples," he told her as he lifted the jug to his lips and took a swig. He lowered the jug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then held it out to her. "Here, try some."

Eirwen regarded the jug warily. "It's alcoholic?"

Alistair nodded. "Go on, it's a bit like wine."

Eirwen smiled and took the jug from him. "Oh, I've had wine before." She raised the jar to her lips and took a cautious sip as Alistair busied himself, pressing ham and cheese between two slices of bread and tucking in.

"Mmmmm... it's nice" she told him. "I expected it to be sweeter." She shrugged and raised the jug again, drinking more deeply.

"Hey! Leave some for me!" chuckled Alistair.

Eirwen grinned sheepishly and put down the jar, reaching again for her food. They ate and drank almost in silence, pausing only to smile at each other over the top of the jug as they passed it backwards and forwards between them.

Eirwen giggled as she passed the jug once again to Alistair. He smirked at her. "I think you should take it easy with the cider, it's stronger than wine you know."

"I hope you're not trying to get me drunk, Ser Knight!" she huffed in mock indignation.

Alistair waggled his eyebrows at her, grinning. "But of course, dear Lady." He arranged his face into his best approximation of a leer. "And then I intend to have my wicked way with you," he added huskily.

Eirwen laughed, slightly surprised at the bawdy humour. "I think that maybe _you_ should take it easy too."

Alistair blushed, looking sheepish. "Maybe you're right," he agreed and pushed the stopper firmly back into the top of the jug.

They soon polished off the rest of the food. Alistair swallowed the last of the cheese and groaned with contentment. "Maker! If I died now, I'd die happy," he told Eirwen.

She smiled at him and then surveyed the top of the bed. There were crumbs everywhere. "I suppose we'd better clear this mess up." she sighed.

"There's an unused bed in the other room," suggested Alistair. He grinned slyly at her. "There are still other appetites to be satisfied."

Eirwen started to protest, slightly shocked at the extravagance of using both beds in one night, when Alistair stood and leaned over, sweeping her up into his arms and silencing her with a kiss. Tentative at first, then more demanding as she responded. He broke off the kiss, "Hmm... I definitely want to do more exploring," he told her, his voice thick with desire. Pausing to grab the candle stick, he carried her across the suite and into the other bedroom.

Alistair kicked the door shut behind him, then crossed the room and laid Eirwen gently across top of the bed, setting the candle stick on the nightstand. He gazed down at the tiny Elven woman lying on his bed and felt something like awe. Desire blazed through him, making him tremble. Lying on the bed, Eirwen saw his eyes darken and felt a thrill of anticipation course through her.

"I want to look at you," murmured Alistair.

Eirwen's ears flushed then self-consciously her hands moved to her shirt.

"No," he told her. "Let me."

Her eyes large, Eirwen nodded and her let her hands fall away.

Alistair leaned over her and, inwardly cursing his trembling hands, slowly unlaced her shirt and pulled the two sides apart. He dipped his head and kissed her throat, running his hands over her shoulders, pushing the shirt back over them. His lips trailed soft kisses along her collar bone while his hands moved down over her breasts, enclosed within the breast band. Eirwen gasped and arched into his touch.

He took the opportunity to slide one hand under her and struggled futilely to undo the unfamiliar ties. He swore and lifted his head, blushing furiously. "Andraste's flaming sword! How does this thing... ?

Eirwen grinned and sat up, pulling off the shirt and reaching her hands up behind her back to undo the strings. The breast band fell onto her lap and Alistair grabbed both it and the discarded shirt and tossed them onto the floor. He dropped to his knees and pulled her forwards so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He viewed her breasts, now conveniently almost at his eye level, with obvious appreciation and growled, "Hmmmm... much better." He tilted his head and drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently, a hand cupping her other breast. Eirwen gasped at the ache that erupted in her groin. She clasped his head and arched against him, whimpering softly. Alistair suckled more insistently and his fingers pinched and stroked. Eirwen almost felt dizzy with longing. His free hand swept around her and he pressed her to him as he moaned.

Slowly he trailed his hand down her back until it met the top of her breeches, then he brought it around to the front and undid the laces. Releasing her breasts he tugged at her trousers and she obligingly lifted her bottom. He swiftly pulled them down and off, taking her small clothes with them. Gently he parted her legs and ran a finger lightly down her sex, watching intently as the soft, glistening folds parted. Eirwen moaned and her hips bucked. She fell back, reclining on her elbows.

Exploring with his eyes and fingers, Alistair found the little nub at the top of her sex and brushed his thumb over it. Eirwen bit back a cry and her hips bucked again. Smiling, Alistair leaned forwards and flicked his tongue over the small bundle of flesh and was rewarded with a moan. He dipped his head and worshipped her sex with his mouth. As his tongue flicked and circled her, Eirwen's legs fell further open and he hooked them over his shoulders.

If Alistair had felt a little tipsy from the cider, he now felt well and truly drunk on the scent of her. He felt his erection twitch. The desire to bury himself deep inside her was almost overwhelming. He groaned against her and felt her shudder in response. Almost of their own volition his fingers explored, caressing her thighs. He sucked, teeth grazing, and felt her legs tremble. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she thrust her groin against his face with a long, shuddering moan.

He waited until her shuddering stopped, then withdrew his head, whispering kisses along the inside of her thigh. Carefully he unhooked her legs from his shoulders and let them down. His erection strained against the front of his breeches; he ached for her. Eirwen sat up, her eyes sweeping over him.

"My turn to explore now, I think," she told him, standing.

Alistair swallowed nervously, suddenly shy. Deft fingers grasped at his, now damp, shirt, pulling it up. As she raised it higher, he helped, pulling it off over his head. He heard her breath hitch slightly as she ran her hands slowly over his chest and down to his belly. He was taken aback when she moved behind him, then gasped as he felt hand and lips on his back. Soft kissed whispered against his spine as her hands skimmed across his back and up to his shoulders; light fingers grazed the back of his neck. He groaned as every kiss, every caress to set his skin ablaze. Eirwen pressed herself against his back and trailed her fingers down his arms. Alistair shivered as he felt her breasts against his back.

He felt cool air on his back as Eirwen appeared in front of him again. He was barely aware of her unlacing his breeches, then she was tugging them down. He groaned when his erection sprang free as his small-clothes disappeared with his breeches. In a daze of desire, he kicked away his clothes and Eirwen stepped close. He whimpered as nails raked lightly down his torso and his legs trembled as they continued down over his groin and the front of his thighs as Eirwen knelt in front of him. He tensed as he felt her warm, soft mouth press against his thigh; feather-soft touches brushed up the backs of his thighs. In spite of his efforts at self-control, his pelvis jerked as he felt firm hands grasp his backside.

Alistair held his breath in anticipation as Eirwen's mouth left his thigh. He caressed the side of her head as he felt the whisper of her breath on his erection. He looked down and saw her lick her lips, the gesture a promise of what she was about to do. His backside flexed in her hands as she slowly drew her tongue slowly up the length of his shaft. The breath hissed from him as she raised her eyes to look up at him and her tongue swirled over the head of his penis. He wasn't aware that one of her hands had moved until it enclosed the base of his shaft and started to stroke him. Almost reluctantly, Eirwen tore here her eyes from his and bent her head, taking him into her mouth. His hips jerked reflexively as he was enclosed in soft, wet heat. It took all his self-control not to thrust deep into her mouth.

Alistair's eyes closed as her hand and mouth moved on him. Unthinkingly his other hand came up to her head. He relaxed slightly as he became more confident that he wasn't going to lose control, giving himself up to the heavenly sensations created by her mouth and hand. Guided by his gasps and the gentle thrusting of his pelvis Eirwen gradually picked up the slow rhythm she had set. She released her hold on his backside and moved her hand so that she cupped his balls, rolling them gently. She heard him moan, then hoarsely gasp "Eirwen... " then his grip on her head tightened and she felt him jerk as he emptied himself into her mouth in hot spurts.

Eirwen felt him relax and withdraw and started to stand. Strong hands grasped her and swept her upwards; she was crushed against him and his mouth claimed hers, his tongue demanding and insistent. As they kissed, each was aware of the taste of themselves on the other's mouth. Gradually Alistair eased his hold on her. Temporarily sated, they crawled into the bed and Alistair blew out the candle. In the dark he curled up around her and felt her fall asleep quickly.

Sleep eluded Alistair. He revelled in the feel of her asleep in his arms but his thoughts were in turmoil. _Exploring... it just makes me want more. It's like eating food that makes me hungrier. I want her so badly but... but what? But I've known her such a short time... but I don't want it to be just about desire... Is it just lust or is it... something more? How will I know?_ All these thoughts, and more, swirled around in his head until eventually he fell into a troubled sleep.

~o~O~o~

Alistair awoke feeling drained and thick-headed. Usually a sound sleeper, his sleep had been full of odd dreams and he felt tired and sluggish. It took him a moment to realise that he was alone. Not that that was unusual but he knew he'd finally fallen asleep curled around Eirwen. He hauled himself reluctantly out of bed and opened the shutter. He winced as bright sunlight pierced the gloom. Judging by the brightness of the day, it was almost noon. Although not one of nature's larks it was later than he would usually sleep. Grumbling to himself, he retrieved his clothes and dressed quickly, heading to the other bedroom. The door was ajar. Pushing it open, there was no sign of Eirwen but he could see that her armour was gone, as were her daggers, although her bow and quiver still stood against the wall.

The shutters were pulled back and through the open windows voices floated up to him. A sudden bark of laughter aroused his curiosity and he crossed the room and peered out of the window. Over the far side, by some training dummies, he could see Zevran, Leliana and Eirwen. He watched them closely, instantly suspicious of Zevran's presence. Their voices came in stops and starts, carried by gusts of breeze that made the flimsy curtains at the window billow, but their words were indistinct. Zevran appeared to be demonstrating moves to the two women. In slow motion, he moved around Leliana then stepped back gesturing to Eirwen. Alistair watched, intrigued, as Eirwen repeated the moves as slowly as Zevran had made them. He had rarely seen Eirwen use her daggers since that expedition out into the Korcari Wilds before her joining.

Alistair stiffened as Zevran stepped back in, grasping Eirwen's arm making some miniscule correction. _Damned assassin, any excuse to touch her._ He scowled and stepped away from the window, deciding that maybe he should do some training of his own. He quickly donned his armour, grabbed his sword and shield and headed down to the courtyard. Once there he walked over to the small area set aside for training. Eirwen, Zevran and Leliana were so intent on what they were doing, they barely acknowledged him. Eirwen flashed him a brief smile before turning her attention back to what the assassin was saying.

Alistair started going through some basic warm-up moves whilst keeping half an eye on the three rogues. It seemed that Zevran was teaching them techniques he had learned with the Crows. Although this did involve him adjusting stances, holding dagger-wielding hands and guiding them through particular movements, Alistair was surprised to find that the Antivan was very business-like about it; he had expected the assassin to take advantage but he seemingly took his teaching seriously. Relaxing, he turned his full attention to the training dummy and proceeded to beat it to death.

"Alistair, what do you say to some proper sparring?"

Alistair lowered his sword and turned to find Zevran grinning at him.

"What? You and me?"

"I was thinking more us against the ladies. I'd like to see how well they have learned their lesson and they could do with the practice."

Alistair hesitated. He was used to sparring with other warriors and although in such exercises he held back with his shield, he was worried about how much damage he might do against the lightly armoured women. He cast an uncertain glance at Eirwen. She grinned at him and twirled her daggers.

Alistair hoisted his shield and assumed a defensive position.

From the top of the steps, Teagan watched with interest as Zevran and Alistair arrayed themselves against Leliana and Eirwen. For a moment all four were still, then with a fierce yell Alistair attacked and the combatants exploded into action. Teagan had expected Alistair to be slower than the others but was surprised to see just how quick he was, in spite of his plate armour and heavier weapons. The air rang with the clatter of training swords and daggers striking and parrying each other. Teagan winced as Alistair bashed Eirwen with his shield, then gasped as she seemed to absorb the blow, flying backwards on to the ground. His jaw dropped as she allowed her momentum to take her into a backward roll and quickly found her feet again, dancing out of the way of Alistair's sword. Zevran and Leliana vied for an advantage neither could find, skipping and stepping around each other, occasionally coming together in a flurry of blows then breaking apart again. Eventually, a draw was called by some unspoken agreement and Teagan descended the steps and crossed the courtyard applauding.

"Bravo! That was a masterful display."

The four turned towards him, all breathless and perspiring heavily. Zevran grinned lazily. "It is a pleasure to have such talented students and there is _so much_ I could teach them."

Teagan raised his eyebrows, not missing the obvious innuendo; Alistair scowled while Leliana and Eirwen rolled their eyes. Deciding to ignore the remark, Teagan turned to Eirwen.

"I don't know what your plans are Warden but I was hoping that you and your companions would join me for dinner this evening."

Eirwen suddenly felt out of her depth and cast a questioning glance at Alistair, who nodded at her.

"Thank you, we will."

"Excellent!" Teagan beamed with pleasure, then his face turned solemn. "I'll be down in the village this afternoon. We'll be holding the funerary rites for those who died and for Isolde."

"Would you mind if I joined you?" asked Alistair.

"Of course not." Teagan looked around and caught the look of anguish on Eirwen's face at the mention of Isolde. "Please, attend or not, as you see fit. No-one will take offence either way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see you all at dinner."

The foursome watched as Teagan turned and headed back into the castle. Slowly they followed him inside and made their way back to their respective rooms. Alistair waylaid a servant and requested hot water for them all, then he and Eirwen headed to the Blue Suite.

"What is special about dinner?" asked Eirwen.

Alistair looked a little confused. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I hadn't expected that we would need to feed ourselves as we have been invited to stay so why did he specifically ask us to dinner with him?"

"Ah, it's all part of our strange Shem ways. In a household like this not everyone eats together and not all visitors would be invited to eat with the Arl, or in this case, Bann Teagan as he's running things while his brother is ill. It won't be anything fancy I expect, but turn up in clean clothes, not armour."

Eirwen looked thoughtful. "I have a skirt, should I wear that?"

Alistair was surprised. "You do? I thought you'd barely brought anything with you when you left your clan?"

Eirwen looked sheepish and the tips of her ears flushed. "It was something I'd been working on before...Anyway, I wasn't thinking very clearly when I packed and for some reason I packed that and very little else."

Alistair chuckled. "Then by all means, wear that."

~o~O~o~

Alistair knocked softly at Eirwen's door. They had spent the afternoon down in the village with Teagan, observing the funerals. It hadn't been pleasant but both of them felt it was important to attend as a sign of respect to the inhabitants of Redcliffe. Alistair suspected that Eirwen had found the proceedings a little bewildering, recalling that she had told him that the Dalish buried their dead. On their return she had asked him to shave her head for her as the fine dusting of hair she retained was starting to look a little ragged. As soon as he'd finished she'd pushed him out of the room, declaring that she needed to get ready. He smiled to himself, there were some things that were apparently universal to women, be they Dalish elves or humans. His own preparations hadn't taken long at all, requiring only that he polish his boots and don a clean shirt.

The door opened and Eirwen stepped out hesitantly. Alistair's eyes widened in surprise.

"What? This isn't appropriate?"

"N-not at all. You look wonderful."

He stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. She wore a light brown, suede skirt that fitted closely over her hips then flared down to her feet. The hem was embroidered with a golden yellow design. The skirt was topped with a matching closely-fitted, suede bodice under which was a short-sleeved blouse that matched the colour of the embroidery on the skirt. Alistair's eyes lingered on the swell of pale breasts visible over the low-cut blouse and unthinkingly he licked his lips. Dragging his eyes away from her breasts he made a twirling gesture with his hand and slowly Eirwen turned. The back of the waist coat was covered in golden embroidery.

"Oh! It's the same pattern as your tattoo!"

Turning back to face him, Eirwen nodded. "Are you sure this is alright?"

"You look beautiful," he told her huskily, stooping to brush her lips with a kiss. He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Shyly, Eirwen took his arm and they went down to dinner.

Eirwen was acutely embarrassed when they entered the large formal dining-room and found they were the last to arrive. All conversation died as they made their way to the table and she was greeted by startled silence. Alistair led her to an empty seat at Bann Teagan's right hand and settled her into her chair, then made his way to the empty seat opposite her, trying to keep the delighted grin off his face.

Teagan was the first to break the silence. "Good evening Warden. May I say how lovely you look this evening?"

Eirwen cast a panicked glance at Alistair, who merely grinned at her. She lowered her eyes with a murmured "Thank you," completely at a loss at how to deal with such formal courtesy.

Teagan turned with a smile to Alistair. "Alistair, delighted you could both join us."

"Thank you for being such a gracious host, Bann Teagan," responded Alistair, unable to stop looking like a cat who'd got the cream.

"You are a dark horse, Eirwen!" exclaimed Leliana.

"A... what?"

"All that time I spent telling you of Orlesian fashions and you had that gorgeous outfit hidden away and never brought it out to show me," she pouted.

"I believe the Dalish are renowned for their embroidered leather," interjected Zevran.

Eirwen shrugged, "I don't even know why I brought it with me. I never expected to wear it. I had just finished shaping the bodice and it was laying out in the Aravel when I packed, so I brought it with me."

"_You_ made it?" asked Wynne, clearly astonished. "I knew you were clever with a needle but I never realised just how accomplished you are."

"You haven't seen the back," Alistair told her knowingly.

Assailed with a chorus of demands to see the back, Eirwen stood self-consciously and turned, revealing the intricate design embroidered on the back of her bodice.

"It's the same as your tattoo," cooed Leliana.

"Vallaslin," corrected Zevran, missing Eirwen's sharp glance of surprise. Leliana looked confused.

"Vallaslin is blood writing, the tattoo," Eirwen explained to her.

"You must forgive our ignorance," apologised Teagan as she resumed her seat. "We know so little of Dalish ways. The Vas...Vallaslin, they mean something?"

Eirwen looked around the table and realised that all eyes were on her. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable at being the centre of such rapt attention, she turned back to Teagan and addressed her response to him.

"They are part of a coming-of-age ritual. Different designs represent different gods. It's usually done in two stages, the simple design first," she gestured at her own face, "then when that has healed the design is completed." A pained expression flashed across her face. "I never got time to get it completed before Duncan recruited me."

"You are too modest, Eirwen," interjected Zevran. He continued as all eyes turned to him, curious. "Our dear Warden makes it sound so simple. The ritual is preceded by meditation and purification and the application of the Vallaslin must be endured in complete silence. No easy feat, as facial tattoos are painful." His fingers brushed his own facial tattoo lightly.

"So, what god does your Vallaslin represent?" asked Alistair. All eyes swung back to Eirwen.

"They are the markings of Andruil, the goddess of the hunt. It was she that gave us the Vir Tanadahl; the Way of Three Trees," she explained.

"Three Trees?" asked Wynne.

Eirwen nodded. "First there The Way of the Arrow; fly straight and true. Then there is the Way of the Bow; bend but never break. Finally there is the Way of the Forest; together we are stronger than one." She shrugged. "That's basically it, although the Charge of Andruil is longer."

"Oh, I think I know some of that," Leliana announced. "Hear me, sons and daughters of the People. I am Daughter of the Moon..."she paused, then brightened and continued, "Mother of Hares, Goddess of the Hunt." She stopped, frowning, and shook her head. "I don't think that's quite right, it has been such a long time since I heard it." She smiled apologetically at Eirwen.

"It's Sister of the Moon," Eirwen told her.

Leliana blushed. "Will you tell it, Eirwen? I'd love to hear it again."

Eirwen hesitated, glancing at Alistair. He smiled encouragingly at her, his eyes warm and interested. Holding his gaze, Eirwen began, softly at first, then increasing in confidence.

"Hear me, sons and daughters of the People. I am Sister of the Moon, Mother of Hares, Lady of the Hunt: Andruil. Remember my teachings, remember the Vir Tanadahl: the Way of Three Trees that I have given you.

" Vir Assan: The Way of the Arrow. Be swift and silent; strike true, do not waver and do not let your prey suffer. That is my Way.

" Vir Bor'assan: the Way of the Bow. As the saplings bends, so must you. In yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength. That is my Way.

"Vir Adahlen: the way of the Forest. Receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness. Respect the sacrifice of my children. Know that your passing shall nourish them in turn. That is my Way.

"Remember the ways of the Hunter and I shall be with you."

"Oh, that's beautiful. Thank you," sighed Leliana.

"Indeed," agreed Teagan. "That was quite fascinating."

Slowly conversation resumed as servant brought in the food and everyone tucked in.

"So, what are your plans?" asked Teagan.

"I had thought we should head to Denerim and see if we can find the scholar you told me about," Eirwen told him.

"Brother Genetivi? So you really do intend to look for the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"

Eirwen nodded. "It seems that they are the only way to cure the Arl from the effects of the poison, so yes." She looked across at Alistair. "How long do you think it will take to get there?"

"At least a week, providing we don't run into trouble along the way," he told her.

"You'll need to be very careful, Denerim will be full of Loghain's men," warned Teagan. "At present our estate in Denerim is closed up, however I can offer you accommodation there if you need it."

"That's a kind offer, but I think it might be safer if we camp outside of the city. If we do attract attention it could reflect poorly on you if we were seen to be staying at the Arl's estate."

"Ah, I hadn't thought of that. Not that it would come as any great surprise to Loghain I suspect, but it might be that the estate is already being watched."

Eventually dinner was finished and the Bann encouraged Leliana to regale them with tales as they adjourned to an adjoining sitting room. Alistair hung back slightly, obviously wanting to speak to Eirwen privately. Eirwen waited until everyone else had left the room, then went to him.

"What's wrong, Lethallin?"

"I'm feeling a little ashamed of myself," he confessed.

Eirwen frowned, puzzled at his words.

"I can't believe that I've never asked you any of this before." He lifted his hand and brushed his finger down the tattoo on her nose. "I'm the one who insisted on courting and yet I feel like I've learned more about you, about who you are, in one conversation around a dinner table than I have since I met you." He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. "The way you spoke was beautiful and you are beautiful."

"You are too hard on yourself, Lethallin," Eirwen told him, her ears turning pink.

Alistair offered her his arm and they rejoined the others.

* * *

_A/N There is no mention of Vallaslin being applied in two stages but each Dalish tattoo has a simple and a complex version so I decided that that tattooing is a two-stage process._

_As ever, my sincere thanks To WellspringCD not only for a super job as a beta reader, but for having a super-fast turnaround time on this rather mammoth chapter!_


	22. Chapter 22

Alistair gathered up the dirty dishes and carried them over to a tub of lukewarm water, As he scrubbed, he watched Eirwen help an exhausted Wynne to her feet and, with one arm around her waist to support her, walk her over to her tent. On their second day out of Redcliffe they had run into a large band of Darkspawn. Although they had prevailed, it had been a hard fight and they had all been shocked when Wynne had collapsed as they prepared to get underway again. Eirwen had insisted that Wynne ride in Bodahn's cart until they stopped to make camp for the night and had refused to listen to the mage's faint protestations that she would be fine. Even now, hours later, Wynne looked pale and tired.

Eirwen held back the flap to Wynne's tent, allowing the older woman to enter unhindered. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Alistair scrubbing dishes. He caught her eye and smiled broadly at her. Just looking at him filled her with joy and her answering smile was just as broad.

"I don't think I'm quite ready to be packed off to bed, like a small child. Come and talk to me for a while, Eirwen."

Eirwen ducked into the small tent to see that Wynne had followed her gaze and was watching Alistair intently. She allowed the tent flap to fall and sat herself down.

Wynne conjured a small wisp of light, then gave Eirwen a knowing look.

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?"

Eirwen was a little startled at the mage's forthright question. She felt a flash of irritation and was tempted to tell the other woman to mind her own business. Her feelings for Alistair were still so new, feelings she hadn't yet dared name; the question made her feel a little defensive. However, she couldn't help but regard Wynne in the same light she regarded the Keeper of her clan and felt she owed her respect, and not a little deference.

Trying to keep her answer as vague as she could, she replied, "Yes, quite."

Wynne nodded. "I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask where you thought it was going." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt." She looked at Eirwen expectantly.

If her first question had startled Eirwen, this one stunned her into speechlessness. _**He's**__ quite inexperienced? What makes you think that __**I**__ am not? I suppose it doesn't matter if __**I**__ get hurt then?_ Her face went flat.

"We're just taking it one day at a time." _Neither of us know where it's going, not that it's any of your business._

"You are both Grey Wardens, and he is the son of a king. You have responsibilities which supersede your personal desires," continued Wynne.

"Alistair doesn't want to be king," Eirwen told her emphatically. _He is a Grey Warden, he can't be king._

Wynne brushed her remark aside, obviously warming to her theme. "That may be true, but he is still a Grey Warden. Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?"

"What am I _supposed_ to do, tell Alistair to go away?" Eirwen asked, astonished at the turn the conversation had taken.

"You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on."

"What do _you_ know of love? You've never left the Circle," demanded Eirwen, now dangerously close to losing her temper.

"I know more about love's enchantment and its perils that I care to tell, but perhaps this is one lesson that cannot be taught. I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

_You sanctimonious old besom!_ Eirwen stood abruptly. "You seem to have a low opinion of me, Wynne. I can assure you that I understand _duty_. I joined the Grey Wardens because it was my _duty_. I have given up everything I love already for _duty_. I have sworn my oath and I will not break it, not for Alistair, not for anything. Goodnight."

Wynne looked startled at the cold vehemence in the elf's voice but before she could respond, Eirwen turned and left her tent.

Alistair started to smile as he saw Eirwen emerge from Wynne's tent until he saw the look on her face. _Oh, Maker! She's got the __**look**__ again. What on earth has Wynne said to her?_ Eirwen didn't even glance at him, making her way to her own tent. He watched as she ducked inside and tied the flaps closed. He attacked the remaining dishes, wondering if he should try and find out what was wrong. _She's tied up her tent flaps... she doesn't want to be disturbed? She was upset though... when she looks all __**cool**__ like that, it usually means something's going on. Maybe I should wait until she wants to talk about it?_

"You're going to wear a hole in that plate, Alistair."

He was so engrossed in his thoughts, he hadn't seen Leliana approach. He grinned, blushing, and set the plate to one side. Leliana grabbed a dry cloth and started wiping the clean dishes dry.

"So, what had you so preoccupied that you'd been washing the same plate for several minutes?"

He shrugged, sheepishly. "I... er... Eirwen looked troubled when she left Wynne. I was wondering if I should go and see what's wrong or wait for her to tell me." He looked at her hopefully.

Leliana smiled at him slyly, "Well, you know her better than any of us, I think."

"Yes, but she's a woman and you're a woman and... I'm not." Alistair gestured helplessly. "I don't want to do the wrong thing."

Leliana giggled. "She is your friend, yes?"

Alistair nodded, blushing. "Well, yes... but..."

"Then just treat her as your friend. Let her know you're willing to listen if she wants to talk. If she doesn't want to, then wait until she does," Leliana told him.

"Right," said Alistair. He washed the last few pots, then dried his hands and headed over to Eirwen's tent. He crouched down listening but could hear nothing. _Is that a good sign? She's not crying anyway._

Softly he called her name, "Eirwen?" He hesitated. "Are you awake?" He waited a few moments but there was no reply. "Goodnight, Eirwen," he whispered, standing. He saw Leliana watching him. He put his hands together at the side of his head, gesturing sleep, then shrugged and headed to his own tent. He felt unaccountably troubled. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but he thought that he and Eirwen had become close enough for her to confide in him. He thought it unlikely that she had fallen asleep so quickly; she clearly didn't wish to speak to him. He sighed. _Oh well, I'll just have to wait for her to tell me about it, like Leliana suggested._

Inside her tent, Eirwen lay seething quietly. _Does she seriously think I won't do my duty to the Grey Wardens?_ She sat on her bedroll, hugging her knees. She had given up her Clan to join the Wardens, because her Keeper had told her it was her duty. Wasn't she entitled to some happiness, having given up so much? The last thing she had expected was to become so close to a Shem, but Alistair felt as important to her now as her Clan ever had. _Do I love him? I __**want**__ him, but is that the same thing?_

She frowned. Wynne's words came back to her.

_"You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else."_

It was hard to imagine such a scenario. Surely Wynne was being extreme? She thought back to the events at the Circle Tower and Redcliffe; then again, they were living in extreme times. She tried to imagine allowing Alistair to be sacrificed in the same way she had allowed Isolde to give up her life to save her son. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled with unexpected tears. _If it was my duty... if it would stop the Blight? No... I'd rather die myself._

"Eirwen?" She stiffened. Alistair. "Are you awake?" She froze in place, not even daring to breathe. She couldn't face him right now. Long moments later, she heard him move away.

Eirwen buried her face in her hands, trying to stifle the sobs that were welling in her chest. Wynne was right; she was selfish. _I love him, how could I not choose him?_ She braced herself. She knew what she had to do.

~o~O~o~

The following days saw them progress nearer and nearer to Denerim. Alistair was hurt and baffled by Eirwen's behaviour. Ever since the night she had stormed out of Wynne's tent she had been cool with him, deliberately avoiding him. He'd tried to catch her on her own, to try and find out what was wrong but he'd never seemed to find the right moment. When they were on the road he now led with Leliana. Eirwen had announced that she wanted to improve her dagger skills and spent much of her free time training with Zevran. This in itself rankled. As at Redcliffe, the assassin's behaviour was professional and detached when he was teaching, however now Eirwen often lingered, chatting with him, and although Alistair couldn't hear what he was saying, it was obvious from his demeanour that he was flirting with her. That Eirwen just smiled and brushed off Zevran's advances didn't make a jot of difference; it drove Alistair wild with jealously.

It wasn't just jealousy though; he _missed_ her. He had become accustomed to their talks as they led their group along the roads of Ferelden. Hesitant at first, she had become less self-conscious about asking him questions; he enjoyed explaining the nuances of Shem culture to her. She was an attentive listener and quick to learn, he rarely had to tell her anything twice. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel stupid; he knew things that she didn't. After her talk of the Dalish at Redcliffe, he had resolved to find out more about her people, about her, but she had given him no opportunity. Since that night when she spoke to Wynne they'd barely had a conversation.

~o~O~o~

Another night, another camp. They had been on the road for a week. According to Leliana and Alistair, Denerim was now only a day's march away. Eirwen had been curious to see the city, looking forward to it, but now her enthusiasm was eclipsed by misery. She knew what she had to do, had made her decision, but couldn't bring herself to face Alistair and say the words. _Coward!_ Their march to Denerim had been unpleasant. As she had walked along behind Alistair it had been impossible not to notice the set of his shoulders, which slumped a little more each day, that his conversations with Leliana had become more one-sided, his responses grunted monosyllables. He had stopped turning his head occasionally to glance at her; the question in his eyes giving way to hurt and confusion. Every time she looked at him she wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to forgive her.

The atmosphere amongst the rest of the group was mixed. Eirwen hadn't spoken to Wynne since that night and both Leliana and Alistair viewed the older woman with suspicion; Zevran was happy to continue as if nothing was wrong at all, flirting outrageously with her after their training; Leliana was obviously uncomfortable, throwing anxious glances first at Eirwen, then at Alistair; Sten was his usual stoic self and didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, or if he did, didn't deem it worth commenting on; Morrigan took her usual delight in tormenting Alistair at every opportunity and merely seemed a little disappointed that he didn't respond as vociferously as usual.

Eirwen had seated herself on the opposite side of the camp fire to Alistair to eat. He bent his head over his plate, watching her surreptitiously as he ate. At the side of him Leliana prattled and Zevran flirted. Eirwen sat between Sten and Wynne, head down, apparently intent on her food. Alistair watched as she finally set down her plate and ran her hand over her head. It had been over a week since he had shaved it for her and it was starting to look decidedly ragged again. He felt a flash of anger. _How long will it get before she asks me to shave her head?_ He thought back to the first time he'd shaved her head for her; it had broken the ice when she'd been so angry at him for calling her beautiful.

"Would you like me to shave your head, Eirwen?" he asked, standing.

She looked up, surprised. He saw her hesitate. She raised her hand and ran it over her head again.

"It's growing out," he told her.

She nodded and stood, her face impassive. "Thank you."

"I'll get my things." Alistair turned and ducked into his tent to rummage in his pack for a towel and his shaving gear.

When he came back out, he saw that Eirwen had filled a small bowl with some warm water and had turned over the empty pail, near the fire. He went over and sat on the pail and she knelt stiffly on the ground between his legs, then sat back on her heels. Alistair swallowed. This was as close as he'd got to her in a week. He wanted to lean forward and enclose her in his arms and kiss the back of her neck. Instead he gathered up the towel and wrapped it around her neck, allowing his fingers to linger for the briefest moment. He noticed her shiver and reached down for the bowl of warm water. He scooped water onto her head and gently massaged it into her hair, then followed it with soap. He took his time working the soap into a lather, occasionally brushing his fingers against the tips of her ears.

Eirwen sat as stiff as a statue between his legs. His fingers sent little jolts of pleasure through her as he massaged her scalp, his large hands remarkably gentle. She struggled not to think about those hands and other places they had touched. Another shiver ran through her as his fingers grazed the sensitive tip of an ear.

"I need you to stay still now," Alistair warned her as he started to shave her, drawing the razor in long, slow strokes up and over her skull.

Eirwen frowned, aware he must have noticed how she shivered at the touch of his fingers. _This is too difficult!_ It was excruciating to have him so close. Every fibre of her being wanted to touch him. The heat from his body surrounded her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The smell of him filled her nostrils; a faint aroma of sweat, metal and leather.

"I'm going to do around your ears."

Although she had steeled herself, Eirwen gasped as he held the tip of one ear away from her head and again when he did the other side. Alistair gave no sign he'd heard. Cleaning the razor one last time on the towel around her neck, he then wiped the remains of the soap from her head.

Eirwen stood quickly. "Thank you," she said stiffly, not looking at him.

As she made to move away, he grasped her hand. "Eirwen..." Alistair looked up at her. For a brief second he saw a flicker in her eyes, then it was gone.

She tugged her hand free. "Goodnight, Alistair." She was gone before he could move. He watched as she ducked into her tent.

_Alistair, not Lethallin._ He sighed heavily and started to clear away.

* * *

_With thanks to WellspringCD for being such an awesome beta reader_


	23. Chapter 23

_This chapter was probably the hardest to write, so far. That I'm finally happy with it is due to my beta reader, WellspringCD, who has held my hand through practically every paragraph. If this one hits the mark, it because she has provided invaluable advice every step of the way._

* * *

"It should be down here" Leliana said, turning off the main square into a broad alley.

Eirwen was glad that she'd sent Leliana into Denerim the previous evening while they made camp. It had only taken her a couple of hours to find out where brother Genitivi's house was; she'd been able to leave the Denerim in plenty of time before the city gate was closed for the night. It meant that when they'd entered Denerim early this morning, they knew exactly here they were going. Eirwen was hoping that they could be in and out of the city as quickly as possible.

Zevran followed Leliana round the corner; Eirwen paused, looking back over her shoulder to check that Alistair was following them. He'd come to a halt some way behind them and was gazing across the square at something. She followed his gaze but could only see a shop and a few dilapidated-looking houses. _What's over there? He's kept looking back at that spot ever since we entered the square. One of the houses?_

"Andraste's blood, you're a Grey Warden! Duncan's apprentice." The voice, filled with outraged indignation, forced Eirwen out of her reverie. Leliana and Zevran drew their weapons, as Eirwen turned her attention back to the alley and found her way blocked by a very large man. She waved her hand at her companions, bidding them to stay their hands; the man hadn't drawn his own weapon. The knight confronting her was even taller than Alistair and just as heavily armoured.

"You killed my friend... and good King Cailan. I demand satisfaction, ser," he proclaimed.

The man's accusation filled her with fury. She stuffed down her anger and squared her shoulders. "Loghain's charges against the Wardens are false," she told him, relieved that her voice sounded calm. _Satisfaction? What does he mean? _She risked a glance over her shoulder, almost willing Alistair to come and catch them up.

"So you would compound slander on top of treason? You _dare_ smear Teyrn Loghain's word?" he demanded furiously.

_Slander? Alistair, __come _**_on_**_! _"What did you mean by satisfaction?" Eirwen asked.

"An uncommon traitor deserves no common death. We will meet on the field of honour, and my blade shall see justice done."

Eirwen stared back at the knight, completely baffled. _He seriously expects me to go to a field so that he can execute me?_

"Meet me in the back alley behind the Gnawed Noble Tavern. There we will duel," he informed her.

Eirwen blinked. _A duel? A fight! He wants me to fight him._

"Very well. If you insist, you'll get your duel," she told him.

"Make peace with the Maker, ser. These are your last moments." The knight glared down at her for a moment, then turned and headed down the alley.

~o~O~o~

"Make peace with the Maker, ser. These are your last moments."

_What?_

Alistair turned the corner to see Eirwen, Zevran and Leliana confronted by a haughty-looking knight. Leliana half-turned as he joined them and he gaped at her in confusion.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"This knight recognised Eirwen and has challenged her to a duel," Leliana explained in a low voice.

Alistair groaned. "Don't tell me she accepted."

"He left her no choice, Alistair," she told him.

He watched in horror as Eirwen followed the knight into the alley and made as if to move after her.

Zevran turned, planting his hand firmly against Alistair's chest, grinning up at him.

"Besides, she can take him easily."

Alistair didn't share Zevran's casual confidence and watched with a horrified fascination as Eirwen removed her bow and quiver, laying them down at the side of the alley, then drew her Dar'Misu. He cast an appraising glance at the knight. He was an older man, obviously experienced. His armour was well-made and well-cared for. Alistair swallowed as the knight drew a shield and a wicked-looking mace. Eirwen stood casually, her posture relaxed, the curved daggers loose in her hands. All at once, the knight charged with a roar and Alistair flinched as the knight surged forwards.

"Does she even know what the rules are? Alistair asked. He could see from the astonished looks on their faces that it hadn't even occurred to them that Eirwen wouldn't understand what she was getting herself into. He looked up to see Eirwen dance out of the way of a crushing blow and slip behind the knight. She hooked a foot around one of his shins and jerked; the knight fell forward with a crash. Eirwen crouched down, her dagger at his neck.

"Are you satisfied now, ser knight?" she asked him.

Eirwen stood and stepped over the fallen knight. Slowly she walked towards her companions. Alistair felt relief wash over him. _Not a duel to the death, thank the Maker!_ Alistair was still gazing in awe at his diminutive companion when he heard Zevran call out a warning and looked beyond Eirwen to see the knight lurch to his feet, swinging wildly with his mace. Eirwen whirled out of the way, but not in time to stop the mace grazing her exposed back and side. The knight staggered wildly, unbalanced, and Eirwen darted behind him, plunging her dagger into his neck without hesitation.

As the man slumped to the floor, his companions came forward. They nodded to Eirwen.

"You fought with honour. Ser Landry couldn't have asked for a nobler death," one of them told her.

Between them, they picked up the knight's body and bore him away. Eirwen watched them, her face impassive. Leliana ran to Eirwen, fumbling around in her small pack and drawing out a poultice. Eirwen's skin had been scored deeply by the spiked mace's glancing blow.

Alistair erupted. "Are you out of your mind? What the hell do you think you were _doing_?"

Eirwen looked over at him. "He said he was at Ostagar. He said the Grey Wardens were traitors and murderers. I tried to explain but..." Eirwen paused, flushing, "he kept going on about 'satisfaction'. I didn't know what he meant." She frowned. "Why did he make me kill him? Where is the satisfaction in that?"

Leliana looked up, nodding. "He really was determined, Alistair. Nothing less than a duel was going to appease him." She looked up at Eirwen. "I'm sorry, Eirwen. I should have explained to you that it would be a duel to the death. I didn't realise that you didn't understand the finer points of duelling for honour."

"Honour? None of that felt honourable!" burst out Eirwen. She shook her head. "I don't understand you humans. It was pointless death that served no purpose."

Leliana patted her arm. "We'll talk about it later." She looked round anxiously. "You stand out to much here, you're too conspicuous. I think we should go to Gentitivi's house, then get out of Denerim."

Alistair ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration, then nodded.

"You know where it is?"

"It should be in the next alley," Leliana told him. She pressed the poultice against Eirwen's side. "You'll have to hold it in place for now, I don't have a bandage."

Zevran darted across the alley and retrieved Eirwen's bow and quiver, then the four of them headed out of the alley.

It took only moments to find Brother Genitivi's house. As Eirwen had expected, he wasn't there but his assistant, who introduced himself as Weylon, was. She was a little startled when the young man invited them in; they were an odd looking group after all. She was acutely aware that she stood out like a sore thumb in Denerim, an armed, tattooed elf in exotic looking armour, added to which she was clutching a poultice to her back. Zevran was almost as conspicuous, yet the man didn't seem at all fazed. Eirwen felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Either Brother Genitivi regularly had odd-looking visitors or...

The young man looked at her sharply, then quickly rearranged his face into a smile.

"I was hoping that you'd actually come to bring me news of Brother Genitivi." He sighed, a tad melodramatically Eirwen thought. "Wishful thinking, it seems."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zevran sidle over to the wall, so that he was almost behind Weylon. As his head turned to follow the Antivan's movements, she asked, "What do you mean?" drawing his attention back to her.

"I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word; it's so unlike him," explained Weylon. Eirwen could see his head twitch as he resisted the urge to turn and watch the assassin. Eirwen cocked her head to one side, holding Weylon's gaze.

"I'm afraid something's happened, that his research into the Urn may have led him into danger."

Eirwen risked a quick glance at Zevran, who was eyeing up a door at the back of the room. She saw his nostrils flare. She breathed in deeply and caught a faint, sickly-sweet aroma. She looked at Weylon and saw his attention had started to wander.

"Why would searching for the urn lead him into danger?"

The man started slightly and his eyes snapped back to her. "Perhaps the Urn has been lost for a reason. I pray for Genitivi's safety, but hope dwindles with each passing day."

_For a **reason**?_

Alistair wasn't paying much attention to the conversation, still silently fuming over the fiasco of the duel. _What was she thinking of? She could have been killed!_ His head swam at the possibility. _How could she let herself get talked into that? How could Zevran and Leliana let her get talked into that?_ He shuffled uncomfortably. _Because I wasn't there... I was dilly-dallying, staring at Goldanna's house._ He sighed. _Goldanna. I don't know if I should ask... can ask... _

He almost snapped to attention as he noticed Eirwen go still. He suppressed a smile as the words started to tumble from the assistant's mouth. He couldn't see Eirwen's face, but he knew what he'd see if he could. _I bet she's giving him the look._

"I-I tried to send help, but some knights came from Redcliffe looking for him not long ago. I sent them after him and they too have disappeared."

"How do you know they've disappeared?" Eirwen's voice was soft, the question casual but the man swallowed nervously. Alistair coughed to hide a small smile. _She just used the eyebrow._

"Well, they... haven't returned, and they sent no word either."

Eirwen said nothing and Alistair saw beads of sweat break out on the man's brow.

"Why would they send _you_ word?" she asked eventually.

"I... I don't know." There was a note of desperation in his voice now. "After what happened to Genitivi, can you blame me for thinking the same thing could happen to the knights?

"_After what happened to Genitivi,_" repeated Eirwen, her voice low and dangerous.

Weylon groaned, raising his hand to his face. "I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genitivi and the Urn, but you persisted. Now it has come to this... Andraste forgive me. I do this in Your Name."

Alistair felt a prickle of magic and started to gather his will to counter it when Zevran's blade flashed across the man's throat. The man crumpled in a heap as his blood spilled out on the floor.

A cursory search of the back room revealed a decomposing corpse, probably the real Weylon. Eirwen watched with embarrassment as the other three searched the bookcase and the desk. There had never been any need to read when she was with her clan but illiteracy was proving to be something of a handicap in the world beyond her clan. Leliana gave a triumphant shout and waved a battered-looking, leather bound book.

"I think this is a journal!" She flicked through the pages, then grinned. "He's headed to a place called Haven, in the Frostbacks."

"That's clear across the other side of Ferelden," Alistair grumbled.

"But we have to go to Orzammar anyway, so it's not out of our way?" asked Eirwen.

"I suppose not." Alistair sighed heavily. "Let's get back to camp. We've had enough trouble for one day."

Slowly, they skirted Market Square. Eirwen watched as, again, Alistair stared at a house on the far side. Suddenly it dawned on her.

_"I have a half-sister... In Denerim... maybe it's time I went to see her."_

_How could I have forgotten that?_ She was supposed to be Alistair's friend and she'd been so caught up in avoiding him, trying to stifle her feelings for him, that she'd ignored the things that were important to _him_. _Why hasn't he mentioned it?_ Guilt and shame coursed through her. _Because I've barely spoken to him...I've been avoiding him. _Determined to try and put it right, she tapped his arm to get his attention.

"That house, is that where your sis...?"

"I think so," Alistair told her curtly.

"Don't you want to go and see her?"

Alistair glanced ahead. Zevran and Leliana had stopped and were watching them curiously. "I don't think now's a very good time."

"No time like the present, let's get it over and done with." Alistair stared at her in confusion as she called to Leliana and Zevran, "You two go ahead, we'll catch you up shortly."

Eirwen strode across the square, to the small house. Alistair stumbled after her.

"We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go," he suggested hopefully.

"Let's see if she's home."

"Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist?" He tried to quell his rising panic. "My sister. That sounds very strange... sister." He stopped, drawing the word out. "Siiiiister."

Eirwen turned to look at him.

"Hmmm. Now I'm babbling." He looked down at her, his face a mixture of hope and desperation. "Maybe we should go. Let's go." Alistair started to turn away. "Let's just... go."

Eirwen's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Tugging him off-balance, she dragged him, stumbling, to the small house. Still grasping his arm, she rapped at the door, then opened it and pushed him inside.

"Er... hello?" called Alistair as she stepped into the house behind him.

A thin woman appeared from the back of the house. Eirwen examined her curiously. Apart from the colour of her lank, stringy hair, she bore no resemblance to Alistair. Her fair skin was lined and she looked prematurely old. Her lips were thin and her mouth pinched. The woman's gaze swept briefly over Eirwen, then rested on the warrior who all but filled the small room.

"Eh? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better." The woman's voice was high-pitched and had a strident quality to it. "And don't trust what that Nalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind."

Eirwen examined the small house as Alistair haltingly explained who he was. The atmosphere was warm and steamy, a faint odour of soap hung in the air. There was very little furniture, only a rudimentary table pushed up against one wall with a bench stowed underneath it; a worn, faded rag rug was laid on the floor. The room was spotlessly clean, as was the woman who was gaping at Alistair. All of a sudden the woman erupted into a furious diatribe.

"You! I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!"

Eirwen was horrified as the thin washer woman went on and on about how hard done to she was, while Alistair just stood there, looking miserable, like he wanted the floor to open up underneath him and swallow him up. _This is all my fault. I shouldn't have dragged him in here like this._ When the woman accused Alistair of _killing_ their mother, Eirwen couldn't stay quiet any longer.

Eirwen felt her temper rising. "That was hardly Alistair's fault, was it?"

"And who in the Maker's name are you? Some elf to follow him about and carry his riches for him?" she sneered.

Before Eirwen could reply, Alistair's interrupted indignantly. "Hey! Don't speak to her like that way! She's my friend, and a Grey Warden! Just like me!"

Eirwen felt a rush of shame at Alistair's heated defence of her; she didn't deserve it.

Goldanna turned her attention back to Alistair and resumed her list of grievances. Eirwen had had enough. She turned to Alistair and tugged free the small, leather purse tucked just inside his breast plate. Alistair looked down at her in confusion.

"What... "

"Give her some money. It's all she's interested in and if it stills her tongue, it will be money well spent."

Goldanna's diatribe stumbled to a stop as she saw the purse, the greed plain in her eyes.

"Fifteen sovereigns, maybe? Would you let me give her that?" he asked.

Eirwen nodded. "Yes, go ahead, if you like." Eirwen had no idea how much money they had, but trusted Alistair not to give all their money away.

Goldanna shot out a hand and snatched the coins, secreting them in a pocket. Eirwen could only gape when she sneered at Alistair. "You, a prince, marching in here with your fancy armour and such, and this is all you got to offer? You must think I'm very stupid."

Eirwen drew one of her Dar'Misu and stepped towards Goldanna. "Someone ought to cut out that tongue of yours!" she hissed, and was satisfied to see the other woman's eyes widen as she stepped back with a frightened squeak.

She felt Alistair grab her arm and tug her back. "No! Just... leave her alone. It's her house, after all." Eirwen looked up at him.

"Let's just go," he said miserably, tugging her out of the door.

Once outside, Alistair ran his hand through his hair. "Well, that was... not what I expected. To put it lightly," he told her ruefully.

Eirwen bitterly regretted dragging him in there in the first place. She hadn't thought it through at all. She'd pushed him into it because of her own guilt, with no regard as to the consequences. All she'd succeeded in doing was causing Alistair more hurt.

"I'm sorry I gave her any money at all," Alistair continued, shaking his head. "This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That gold-digging harridan? I can't believe it." He turned and marched across the square towards the gate and Eirwen struggled to keep up with his long legs.

"I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question, isn't that what family is supposed to do? I... I feel like a complete idiot."

"I don't know what to say," Eirwen told him. "I'm sorry it turned out like this."

Alistair sighed. "Yes... I'm sorry too. I guess I should have known better."

He strode through the gate. "Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this any more."

The walk back to their campsite was tense and uncomfortable. There was a palpable atmosphere between Alistair and Eirwen. Initially Alistair took the lead, with Leliana at his side. After a while Leliana flashed Zevran a look and he moved up to take her place and she dropped back to walk with Eirwen. They walked along in silence for a while.

"Eirwen. I don't know what Wynne has said to you, but I think you're being very unfair to Alistair."

Eirwen sighed heavily. "I know. I _know_ I need to talk to him, but I can't bring myself to say the words. I..." She stopped, struggling to keep a grip on her emotions.

Leliana patted her arm. "You need to find a way, my friend, and soon. If you have to hurt him, then do it quickly and cleanly."

Eirwen nodded miserably. "I'll talk to him later, when we get back to camp."

~o~O~o~

Leliana and Zevran were busy cooking. Zevran had purchased some spices in Denerim and was eager to show off his culinary skills. Eirwen changed into a shirt and breeches and wandered away from the camp, needing some time alone, trying to prepare what she wanted to say to Alistair. Leliana watched her go, Gelert trotting dutifully behind her, then hurried down to the stream where Alistair was refilling their water bucket.

"Alistair! Eirwen's gone for a walk. Maybe you should go after her?"

He shuffled uncomfortably. "I don't know, Leliana." Alistair looked at her doubtfully. "Wouldn't it be better to wait for her to tell me what's on her mind?"

Leliana snorted in exasperation. "You've been patient enough, I think." She reached for the bucket. "Go and find her. She needs to talk; you both need to talk."

Finding confidence in Leliana's certainty, Alistair handed over the bucket and set off to find Eirwen.

It didn't take Alistair long to find Eirwen. She was wandering aimlessly through the trees, not far away from their camp. He called out to her, and was dismayed at the look on her face when she turned to look at him. _She looks like a startled deer. One wrong move and she's going to run away._ He approached her cautiously, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Uhm... I appreciate that you brought me to see my sister, and that you... well, that you were there to talk me down after we left." He saw her eyes widen in surprise, before the impassive look shuttered her face. "You're a true friend and I... love you. I just... wanted to tell you that," he blurted, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He was mortified at the pain in her eyes as she backed away from him. "No! You can't! I... we can't... " Eirwen turned away as her eyes filled with tears. She stood, rigidly, hugging herself.

Alistair started to reach out a hand, then caught himself. "Eirwen, tell me what's wrong. This is about something Wynne said, isn't it?"

He saw her nod and waited patiently. Eirwen sighed, then he saw her hand go up to her face and she sniffed loudly.

"She said... she talked about duty," she told him, her voice soft and thick with tears, "and about... love."

Alistair ached to put his arms around her.

"Wynne said that love is selfish, that it can... compromise duty. That as a Grey Warden, I have to put duty first and..." Eirwen sighed again, "she's right."

"She is _not_ right," burst out Alistair angrily. Eirwen started at his tone and turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide. He stepped towards her and grasped her arm, turning her to face him. "She is _not_ right," he repeated more gently. "There are plenty of people out there who manage to do their duty and love someone at the same time." He saw her frown. "Tell me," he asked her, "how does duty work in a Dalish Clan?"

Her frown deepened. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"You have a duty to your Clan, yes? How does that work?"

She thought about it, then tried to put it into words, "I suppose it means we all work to keep each other safe. Everything we do is for the greater good of the Clan," she paused, thinking.

"Yet your Keeper doesn't tell you that you can't love, does she? She doesn't say that love is selfish and that if you love someone then you can't fulfil your duty to your Clan."

"Well, no," conceded Eirwen. "But what Wynne was saying was that love demands devotion to one person..." Alistair snorted as she continued, "and she asked me that if I was forced to choose between saving my love and saving everyone else, what I would choose? At first I thought her foolish, but when I thought about it..." she looked up at him, her eyes full of anguish, then dropped her gaze again, "I wasn't sure any more what I would choose."

Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but she carried on. "I couldn't stop thinking about the Arlessa, Isolde. What if I had to make that kind of choice for you? If your life was the price to pay for saving everyone else?"

Alistair gave into his impulse and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. He rested his cheek on her head and, as he felt her sob, he blinked away his own tears.

"She is wrong in so many ways, Eirwen, I barely know where to begin." He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts. "There are many kinds of love. I was told by a Sister in the Chantry that the Maker makes our hearts big enough to hold them all, and I believe that. If you would deny yourself one kind of love, where would you draw the line? Must you stop loving Ashalle, because one day your love for her _might_ conflict with your duty? Will you stop loving your friends? Love is the very opposite of selfish, or at least that's what I was taught."

Alistair felt her sobs subside. He squeezed her gently. "As to choosing... I hope you never have to make that choice, but I know that you will do the right thing because you always do." He loosed his arms and leaned back, wiping away her tears with her thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. "If I ever have to choose between what is right for you and what is right for the Grey Wardens, what would you have me do? What do you think I _would_ do?"

"I think... " Eirwen gulped a little, breathless from crying, "that you would do what is right for the Wardens."

Alistair smiled at her, then hugged her close again. "And I expect no less of you." He kissed the top of her head. "Maker, Eirwen! You had to choose between searching for Tamlen or leaving your Clan and joining the Wardens, if anyone has proven themselves with regard to duty, you have."

Alistair brushed his fingers under Eirwen's chin, tilting her head up, and leaned in and kissed her softly. "We're in the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. We're in the midst of a Blight and a civil war. I have no idea what our future holds, or if I can even _offer_ you a future. All I know is I love you and I want to be with you. "

Eirwen gazed up at him, her eyes large in her face. She reached up a hand to cup his face. "I love you, too," she told him softly.

A wild joy surged through Alistair at her words and he lowered his head, kissing her fiercely. He felt the familiar ache building in his groin as she pressed against him. The fervour of Alistair's kiss made Eirwen's head reel. There was a hunger to it that bordered on savage. He crushed her against him, a possessive hand roaming down her back to grasp her backside, clasping her to him.

Alistair pulled away and Eirwen whimpered in disappointment. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire; she felt as if she might burst into flames under that gaze.

"I've missed you so much," he told her, his voice low and husky.

She felt a pang of shame at those words. Flushing, she stammered, "I... I'm sorry, Lethallin. I should have... "

Another, softer, kiss silenced her. "No more words," he murmured as his mouth grazed against her lips, her nose, her eyes. She felt a shudder of desire run through her as his mouth wandered lightly over her ear.

Alistair felt her shudder against him and felt the feral desire to _possess_, that he'd been trying to suppress, flare in him again. His lips and tongue explored the deliciously tapered ear, that had somehow felt off-limits before; licking, nuzzling, nipping. He felt Eirwen tug his loose shirt free of his breeches, then her hands were blazing trails of fire over his skin. He growled in frustration as Eirwen's own, tailored shirt proved harder to penetrate.

He almost yelped in surprise when she pulled away from him. The flash of irritation on his face was rapidly replaced with a look of open appreciation as she pulled her shirt up and off, over her head. His eyes widened as she reached a hand behind her and unfastened her breast band, her small firm breasts springing free as she dropped it onto the grass. Alistair tugged his own shirt off and sank to his knees, pulling her to him.

Eirwen arched, gasping, as Alistair's mouth closed over her nipple. He sank back to sit on his heels and her legs encircled him as he drew her down onto his lap. He groaned as she writhed against him. He wrenched his mouth away from her breast, shuddering.

"I want you so much," he murmured against her throat.

Eirwen leaned back, catching his face in her hands. Her grey eyes were dark and serious as she gazed at him. "Then take me, Lethallin. I am yours."

A bark of startled laughter escaped him. "What? You mean right now?" He looked around doubtfully. "Right here? Outside? In a wood?"

The corner of her mouth twitched in a small smile. "Outside. In a wood," she confirmed. A glint of challenge flared in her eyes as she added, "Shem."

"B-But don't we need a blanket or something?" he protested.

"The grass here is as soft as any blanket." Eirwen shuffled off his lap and sat down, tugging off her boots.

Alistair blanched. "What if somebody _sees_ us... or worse, we're _attacked_?"

Eirwen glanced across at Gelert who sat, watching them with interest. Alistair flushed under the dog's gaze. As if sensing his embarrassment, the mabari flopped down and closed his eyes, although his ears twitched alertly.

"I don't think we'll be disturbed," Eirwen assured him, standing. Slowly she unlaced her breeches, then tugged them down, small clothes and all and stepped out of them.

Mesmerised by the sight of her, Alistair's doubts fled. Shifting, so that he sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, he shed the rest of his clothes quickly. He caught her hand and pulled her down, laying her on the grass. He leaned over her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, as his hand wandered lazily down her body. He watched her skin shiver and ripple as he caressed, first her breast, then her belly, then her hip. Her body turned into him as his hand meandered on its leisurely journey.

He heard her breath catch in anticipation as his fingers parted her sex. Trying to control the trembling of his hand, he sought out the little nub that he knew gave her such pleasure. His thumb grazed over it, and he felt her stiffen against him, heard her gasp. He let his fingers slide down between her moist lips and tentatively inserted a finger into the cleft he found there. He shuddered as it slid easily into her, enclosing him in soft, damp heat. Encouraged, he inserted another finger, thrusting gently while his thumb worked against the nub of her sex.

Eirwen grasped his head and kissed him urgently as she thrust against the hand doing wonderful things at her core. "Alistair... please..." She arched against him desperately. Gaining confidence, Alistair's hand increased its momentum, feeling her leg tremble, knowing she was close to her release. Eirwen cried out, flexing against his hand as she came. Alistair slowly withdrew his hand, his heart racing. His breath caught in his chest as Eirwen caught hold of his hand and she raised it to her face, breathing in the musky scent that lingered there, then she slowly ran her tongue along his fingers. She wriggled underneath him and he found himself between her legs.

He closed his eyes, suddenly unsure.

"What's wrong, Lethallin?" Eirwen asked.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he confessed. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I want you so much, I can barely control myself."

She smiled up at him, then started to sit up. Confused, Alistair backed away. "Lie down," she instructed.

Warily, he laid on the grass. Eirwen shifted so that she straddled him. Slowly she slid up his body, her damp sex rubbing against his twitching erection.

Alistair groaned as he felt her lift herself up, then her hand grasped him, guiding him. He gasped, shuddering, as she lowered herself onto his length, slowly taking him inside her. His hands clutched the grass convulsively as he tried not to thrust up at her. He moaned as he felt her rise, then fall, his hands moving of their own accord to her hips.

He heard her voice, as if from miles away, murmuring softly, "It doesn't hurt at all, Alistair. It feels _right_."

He only realised that he had closed his eyes, when they flew open at her words, and he was greeted with the glorious sight of her astride him. Pushing himself into a half-sitting position, his mouth sought out the breasts so temptingly positioned above him, as he thrust into her. He heard her moan as he suckled greedily, his hips bucking. His self-control unravelled as he exploded into her, clutching her to him as he moaned her name against her breast.

Sated, Alistair fell back onto the grass, pulling her down onto his chest. He cradled her gently as she nestled against him.

"I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place..."

Eirwen lifted her head to look at him. "It _was_ the perfect time." She looked around her, then smiled down at him. "And I think this is the _perfect_ place."

He chuckled at that. "Well, you would." He cast an eye up at the sky; the light was starting to fade a little.

Eirwen caught his look and snuggled against him. "A few more moments, Lethallin."

Alistair squeezed her gently, sighing happily. "A few more moments," he agreed.


End file.
